This is a Story About Love
What I really want to do is just come right out and say it, without an inflated or contrived sense of drama. Because it is a simple story at its essence, with a multitude of messy, human details piled on top of it. I have held this experience close for many months—determined to stay immersed in it for as long as possible. If I opened up about it too soon it would necessitate, to some degree, having to organize it into a cohesive narrative, which I knew would only end up diluting the potency of what was happening. And while it continues to unfold and evolve, as it most assuredly always will, the longing to bring this story to light has overtaken that initial pull inward.
As to the idea of beginning by sharing what is at the core of all this, the essence, I will say this is a story of forgiveness and grace, miracles and moments. It is about the choices I made when faced with the most high-definition clarity I’d ever experienced in my life and about the way that clarity led me to a full-body, full-heart, full-everything YES. This is a story about love—about all the tiny, mundane ways it makes itself known, no matter the circumstances, as long as I’m committed to keeping my eyes open.
It will take a while to fully express what I’m talking about here, but for now what you need to know is that I was estranged from my dad for thirteen years. We reconciled at the end of 2018, and five months later he was diagnosed with advanced small cell carcinoma and given a prognosis of six to nine months. Last March, just as the Covid tidal wave was slamming into our world and shutting everything down, I was with him at his home in Oklahoma when he died.
There is so much to this story. I honestly don’t know where to go beyond this slightly absurd encapsulation; it is ludicrous in its brevity, preposterous in its austerity. I just aimed a telescope toward an entire universe within the space of three sentences. It feels almost miserly.
The point of this sharply-chiseled summary is not to withhold, but to lay down the first stone on a long and winding path that I am just beginning to construct. The experience was one thing; the process of unraveling it in order to piece it back together word by word is a journey I’ve barely begun. It is that creative calling that brings me here today—in your inbox, trying to find a way to tell this story.
My dad and I were estranged, and then we reconnected. Five months after that he was handed a horrific cancer diagnosis. Less than a year later he was gone. Before, after, and in between everything changed. Every single thing.