I don't know what to say

I sat down at the computer this morning to write about my weekend, which has been a comedy of errors. But then the phone rang, and the lives of the people in my family will never be the same.

First of all, my dad's okay. His scan isn't until January, so he has a temporary (hopefully permanent!) reprieve. This has nothing to do with him, but everything to do with cancer. I don't understand why it won't attack people who are evil, who bring nothing good to this world and who only cause pain. Instead, cancer ruins the lives of people who are good and kind and loving. People who have endured their own kind of pain and who have soldiered through. People who still have so much more life to live.

I am almost in tears as I write this. I don't understand why cancer scares, and sometimes kills, the people I love. I don't understand how it leaves us all speechless and terrified, but marches on anyway. It has marched on through the body of a person, very dear to me, who thought that chemo had saved him. Instead, he knows now that he has six months to spend with his wife, son, stepsons and granddaughters. He has six months to get his affairs in order and provide for their lives after his is over. He has six months to do everything he ever wanted to do, but will most likely be too sick to do.

And despite this, despite everything, he kissed my cheek last night, told me I looked lovely and offered to refill my drink. He smiled, he laughed, he joked. Because what else can you do? What else can you say? Hey, good to see you, I have six months. Great party, too bad I won't be here next year.

I shouldn't have, but I called Brian at work to tell him. And now he'll spend the rest of the afternoon reminded of the five years he spent wondering how much longer his own father had. Bernie's six months turned into five years, but that's a lucky statistic; the exception, not the rule. I don't know what to say. I don't know what to say to my dad, who is bound to be scared to death to go for his scan, knowing how this one turned out. I don't know what to say to anybody. There are no guarantees.

Thanksgiving was different and smaller. Christmas will be difficult and even smaller than Thanksgiving. But we will spend it with our family, for we would be no other place.