Somewhere I have never traveled, gladly beyond
I asked you to read it.
Pinned to my door, a sign, a desperate plea for you to connect with my poetic side…
I do believe you briefly glanced at it, but I don’t believe you understood it…
That was so long before everything happened…

Dad said he wanted to write a story, telling everything that happened, from the first day he rushed
to bring you to the hospital, after you had coughed up blood all afternoon.
He started to. Dad always had good intentions.

I wish I hadn’t been such a bastard.
But my mind was too weak to comprehend, the emotion wasn’t there.
I didn’t think about the fact that you were stuck in a bed all day, while I went to school and had fun.
I would come home and mud for the rest of the night.
I would act pissy whenever you asked for food, or comfort, or friendship.
I’m sorry mom.

I wish I could slap my younger self, wake myself up and talk to you.
I’m sorry I never understood your beauty, at least not until it was too late.
I can’t hear the word cancer without the deepest hatred for disease.
Talk while you’re still conscious, before the morphine

The doctors gave us so much hope. Too much.
Even Dad hadn’t seen it coming, the last month was hell.
I think of movies like Good Will Hunting and Magnolia,
with characters who’ve dealt with cancer, and I feel kinship.
I believe that I’ve felt what they feel.
But there will never be enough words or pictures to explain how I feel now.

I’m sorry I wasn’t a better son.
I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you.
I love you Mom, and I miss you.
My mother died July 20th, 2000, My father died January 13th, 2001.
My mom had lung & brain cancer, and died at 48.
My dad died from heart problems, he was 58.

I guess I’ve written this as a warning, if you know someone with a life threatening disease, spend as much time with them as you can.
That’s stating the obvious, but don’t cop out behind hope is what I mean.
Share all the love you can

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