(Because yes, this awesome man’s my “daddy.”)
(I am 46 and he is 88 and he will always be my daddy.)
I would like to thank you, dear readers, again & again & with all my heart, for the prayers you are offering for my father. Certainly “cancer” is not the most upbeat of topics, but hey, what’s the point of my writing it all down if I can’t speak to the things that matter most?
This in addition to those Angela stories.
When I called my dad on Thursday night—the same day he received the prognosis—he was as cheerful as always. He had gone for a walk and was having a beer; he was watching the news; he was starting supper. That’s my daddy. He’s 88 and still going strong—still cooking up meals for my mom & my brother; still taking tireless care of the home I grew up in.
Though granted, he’s slowing down a bit.
Dad told me that his first appointment is not until May 30th. From the sounds of it, all four of my beautiful sisters will all be accompanying him! This gives me, the youngest chick and farthest daughter, great comfort. We will know more then about the lump that was taken from his chest; will know more then about how to proceed.
(Speaking in medical terms, that is.)
(Because spiritually, we have begun.)