Four years ago today, on the first anniversary of 9/11, I was on a (very empty) plane with my bro headed home from my three-day move to California. My dad lay in a hospital bed, crying. He had just been diagnosed with brain cancer and was given less than 5 years to live.
I'll never forget that day. I've never been so scared. I've never seen my family, my dad, so scared.
He went into surgery the next day shaking - with a little stuffed animal bear my mom had bought for him at the gift shop. And, with about 15 little life-saver-like foam things stuck to his head. (I'm sure there's a medical term for this.)
About four hours later, we received word that his "tumor" was actually a brain abscess - a mass of infected cells or pus. I remember not knowing exactly what that meant. It was so surreal.
Today, my dad is busy teaching, golfing and singing like nothing ever happened. We were so lucky, so fortunate.
I love you dad.