When I Met You, Cancer

I knew you before I ever met you.

You were on the television, making a cameo in my grandmother’s soap operas. You were the extra dollar at the drug store. You were the reason behind the ribbons I’d pin to my clothing. Your name was plastered into slogans & indeed, I knew no one liked  you.

For your name brought faces to fall and tears to join them.

I didn’t know it was you when my mother suggested I not enter the hospital room. I didn’t know you were the umbrella over the category leukemia. You tried your hardest to break my aunt, yet through bleeding lips she cracked a smile and filled that room with laughter.

You took her from us; but be not proud for one day we will wake together eternally. She is not gone, yet laughing on the other side.

See. I knew you. I knew the kind of person you were; always doing your worse to make a name for yourself. Happy family; happy life for you equates to a target. Let’s be honest, everyone is your target, yet for some reason, you seem to find yourself harming the children of our generation the most. You harm their grandparents, aunts, uncles, parents, knowing full well the pain this change of life causes. And when your disgusting self is desperate enough, you seek out the children directly.

You want to have the power to make the powerful, weak. I knew this without any introduction.

It wasn’t until you decided to attack my father that I met you. & you met your match.

My father is stubborn as hell. My father is sentimental, yet he’d never say it. My father had been through life and is the most dynamic, “no true way to explain him unless you met” him kind of person. & I can only try to replicate his image.

The doctor’s had been telling him to be tested for months. He refused being the stubborn ass he is.

It wasn’t until the doctor’s tone of voice became harsher that another brush off was not possible, did he accept.

Yet, my father is not the kind of man to stay anything serious especially regarding himself. And so, he called his inspection going to get “roto rootered.”

At this point, we had not met yet. You had met my father and he knew you were in his presence, but he had not choose to introduce us.

We actually would never get a formal introduction.

A thousand miles away on a vacation with my in-laws, I would get the broken silence and understand. My mother would take the phone and cautiously confirm leaping over any words that she thought might upset me. Instead, I’d play it calm. I’d say we need more information and to see the next step. I’d say we would talk tomorrow. I am in fact my father’s child.

Then I’d avoid all human interaction especially from my in-laws until I stumbled broken to my then finance who too was falling apart.

This would be that moment I always talk about where I decided to go to the gym to release how I was feeling, but this is not about that.

I fought off your nightmares and torment that day & the next few month’s you’d question the power of everyone around me.

What you didn’t realize, is that you’d also bring out of the good.

You brought a half sibling to visit at surgery. You brought all my family to be caring and show their sentimental side though it seemed to be lost.

We cut the shit out of you.

And you backed the fuck off for almost a year and a half.

And now, you think you can come back?

You think it is okay to reappear after hours of chemo and months of positive news.

Period, rhetorical question.

Now is not your time. We are older, but we are stronger.

And so, we wait for the news of the next step.

Do we cut you out again? Do we poison you again?


Only time will tell our method of destruction, yet I find the greatest method to be neither of these.

The greatest way to destroy you is through strength; it’s through love & commitment.

It’s through never giving up.

Sorry, bud. My dad’s one hell of a fighter.IMG_2271.JPG




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