Page 12 of Love Under Construction

The minute I step off onto the eighth floor, I know something is seriously wrong. The overhead sign readsOncology,and I feel like I’m about to throw up. There is no way my dad has cancer. He can’t. He’s supposed to be invincible.

Each step I take down the hallway to his room, my feet grown heavier and heavier. I knock gently on the door of room 801, and my mom opens it with a sad smile.

“You’re finally here,” she pulls me to her and begins to cry.

Looking over her shoulder, I see my dad laying in the hospital bed looking frail and gray.

“Let her in the door Dahlia,” my dad’s voice cracks. Mom sighs but lets me go.

“Daddy,” The tears I’ve been fighting begin to fall.

“Come here sweet girl,” he pats the bed beside him.

I take a seat and lean in to put my head on his chest as the tears flow. He wraps a gentle arm around me and pats me on the back.

“How bad is it?” I ask between tears.

Dad adjusts the oxygen in his nose and takes a shaky breath. “We didn’t want to tell you on the phone.”

“Olivia,” my mom speaks up. “Daddy has Stage IV, lung cancer. They’re given him a few weeks at best.”

“What?” I gasp. “How? Why didn’t they detect it before now? Isn’t there something they can do?” I question frantically.

Mom shares a look with Dad, and he nods before speaking. “We’ve known for a long time. Nothing else they can do now.”

Staying by my dad’s side, I soak it all in. Anger, sadness, and grief all consume me.

My parentshidall of this from me. For months, years even. They knew before I moved to New York. My dad knew for even longer. He’d be trying “experimental treatments,” as he called them, and that’s why their finances were so messed up too. All the long business trips I thought they were going on, were cover-ups for different treatments and clinical trials.

His team of doctors joins us a short while later, and I listen as they explain everything to me. And deliver the final blow. My dad’s elected to stop treatment at this point and call in hospice now that I’m home. Once things are set up, he’ll be discharged and set home to spend his final days with us.

I don’t know how I didn’t see it. I should have seen it and noticed his body growing weaker. But I didn’t. I guess nobody truly wants to see their parents growing older or dying for that matter. Now I’m being told I’ve got a few weeks left with my dad. There’s nothing they can do now except keep him comfortable. It’s spread too far. Too fast,this time.

After a few years in remission, cancer’s came back with a vengeance.

* * *

“We should go;let Daddy rest for a little bit,” Mom speaks up before dinner time.

“It’s okay Livy,” Dad speaks slowly, his eyes beginning to droop. “You and Mom go home and get some rest. It’s been a long day already.”

I’m reluctant, but it’s clear he needs his rest.

“We’ll come back first thing tomorrow after we’ve all had a chance to recharge.” Mom tries to reassure me.

With a nod of agreement, I stand and walk over to kiss my dad’s forehead. “I love you, Daddy.”

“Love you, too, baby girl. This will work out. I promise. You and your mother will be just fine. You’ll see.”

His words feel so hollow, though I want to believe him. I’m not sure how I’ll be fine without my rock, my hero.

Twenty-five minutes later, Mom pulls into the driveway at home. The Southern-style home I grew up in no longer has the warm and welcoming appeal it always boasted. Something is already missing. There’s a tightness in my chest with the realization that soon, that feeling will be permanent.

I follow Mom into the house as if I’m seeing it all for the first time. Memories surround me, in every inch of space. While I take my time and soak it all in, my mom quickly retreats to Dad’s office and begins making calls. Offering to help her gets me nowhere. She shews me away and insists I go rest instead.

How the hell am I supposed to rest, knowing that my time with my dad is so limited? Regret takes hold. I should be with him; I should have stayed at the hospital. Spending every moment I have left with him.

Retiring to the sanctuary that is my bedroom room, takes me back to my childhood when things were so much simpler. It’s sage green walls and pink ballerinas everywhere, remind me of the girl I once was. So carefree and happy. Part of me wants to go back to that time.

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