Nascar was blaring exhaust sounds from the television as I lay on one of the sofas at my parents house. I never thought it would be a common denominator between my dad and I, but as he lay on the other sofa watching, I knew this was more than Jeff Gordon making a dizzing display of dust across the track.
This was a trigger mechanism, that sound, I don’t have to watch it, I am transported back in time to the flowered sofa watching my dad trying to maintain an air of dignity and muscle up to the the rigors of exhaustion due to chemo.
We shared a bond thanks in part to the race on the television , even though most times I would have rather been at the local antique shop. But I wouldn’t have traded that time for anything. Anything other than to have my dad here now, and healthy. It will be nine years since you lost your battle with cancer and the pain isn’t as sharp as it once was., but time has a way of reducing the stabbing pain associated with the loss.
07/27/00—–07/27/09
I will always be bustersdaughter remembering…………….
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