I went to calc class just like I had the previous 2 months. 9 am my freshmen year. Torture. I lazily sat through the lecture and zombie walked back to the dorm. I got there to receive a call. “Michele’s mom is coming to get you. You need to come home.”. I don’t know what I thought was going on. I was panicking about dumb stuff. Who was going to take biology notes for me? Would Joel be looking for me for econ at 2? So dumb.
It all started in the summer before I headed to school. My dad couldn’t shake this pesky cold. Just one of those coughs that won’t go away. He was getting sore from all the coughing. The weekend we moved in, he was in some serious pain. 8 flights of stairs that many times isn’t even fun for college freshmen. I knew he would get better. I mean, why not? I was ready for college and new adventures. I called every few days and chatted about my day. New friends, new classes, etc. I went home for Labor day and on Saturday, he was having trouble breathing. It was the only time I have been to the emergency room. It was terrible. They drew at least 2 liters of blood from his lungs but he was doing better. I didn’t know what any of this meant. Looking back, God how naive I was. I went back to school that week with frequent phone calls. I may have even gone home again. I really can’t remember. I try not to honestly. I remember the first phone call. I was visiting my new ‘friend’ Kevin. Ya know….the one on the about page. Anyway it was my mom telling me to go find my roommate or my friend Chad and call her back. I did what she said and I don’t remember what I was thinking again. I know I wasn’t freaking out but why wasn’t I? I play it over and over it is always so confusing. I never knew what was coming. Idiot.
Cancer. Lung cancer… It wasn’t good. How the hell it had spread so bad in such a short amount of time was unimaginable. He was going to do chemo and the likes. I really can’t patch together much of my life from then until that next phone call. I know I went to class. I had fun. But I think my brain doesn’t want me to know anymore. I don’t remember anything. It kinda scares me. Maybe the guilt would be too much. I dunno.
October 3rd 10 years ago I feel asleep in the passenger seat of my roommates mom’s jeep. I don’t remember talking, crying, anything. I do remember her getting a phone call before we made it out of Chapel Hill. I paid no mind. I’m glad I did. It wasn’t a happy one but God bless Mrs. Toney. She didn’t let on and I fell back asleep. We got to my house and there were a lot of people. Why? I walked in the door and I can’t remember anymore. I heard “gone” and then it’s all hazy. Funeral plans. Chats on IM for people to tell my professors. Caskets. My friends bringing me presents. I do remember weird things vividly. Gabi called. She asked if she could bring anything. I said yes. I needed poster board. I was going to craft through my pain. And craft I did. I dug through photos. Ripped through my baby book. I made a collage for my daddy who I never got today goodbye to.
10 years and it still stings. My dad was nerdy and he never got to see my nerd potential. Never got to see me graduate with 2 degrees. Get married. Have Landon. It sucks Ya know what? It fucking sucks. Every.God.Damned.Day.
p.s. I wrote this and didn’t proof it on purpose. fuck mispelling