I slept last night for a total of one hour. I woke up and felt like shit. I decided to skip my Anthropology of Sex lecture, because my body refused to get up from underneath the covers. I did go to Art History, though. But, I couldn't focus, let alone even draw instead of paying attention, like I normally do. A concerned friend of mine told me I looked sickly pale and that I was in desperate need of sleep. I took his precautions to heart and drove myself home right after, completely missing my 3 hour studio art class. I don't think I could have done anything productive anyway. I get home, and I'm actually feeling relieved. You see, since the semester started, I hadn't the time to see my father as much as I used to. Before, we'd walk a few laps around my old school together every Monday morning, or get breakfast before I drove off to school, or even just play some music. But now that my classes start early and end late, I practically don't see him all week. So I was ecstatic to have my lunch with him. But something was off. Saying that he wasn't himself is a serious understatement. My father is a strong man, but he looked tired and weak. And then I saw his eyes. I could tell he had been crying because they were puffy and red. Something was very wrong. He tried to crack some jokes to liven up the mood, but he wasn't fooling me. It turns out that his sister's breast cancer had gotten worse. So much so, that it had spread to her brain, and confined her body in the ICU. It was a predominantly silent meal. What could I say to him that would bring comfort? What could be done to help ease the pain? I remember repeating the words, "It's okay, Dad". But the whole time, his face was a vague blur. I don't think he heard me over all the chaos looping in his head.
mkp.
