It doesn’t matter how unfair I think this all is. It doesn’t matter that my heart is breaking. It doesn’t matter that the last picture we took together was of all of us with so much faith that this surgery would mean more time. None of that will change anything that is now.
When I see you laying there, you’re not you. If not for the machines moving your lungs, you are already dead. Yeah. I know that’s a horrible thought. But it’s my thought none the less.
I tell you every day to keep fighting. I’m trying to keep fighting too. But damn it’s hard. I want to scream. I want to find someone to place blame on. Maybe you shouldn’t have had the surgery.I would have taken a few months over losing you now. I just wanted you to wake up.
So when you squeezed my hand after surgery. Was that you comforting me, and yourself? Or was that a cry for help? I don’t know.
Logan has faith that you are going to come back to us. I’m trying to be as optimistic. It’s hard. I want to curl up and just ignore the world, but I can’t.
I know I’m not the only one to go through this. I know other families have suffered like this. And yet it feels very lonely. When the night gets quiet and I’m left with nothing but the voices in my heads and my thoughts. And it FUCKING SUCKS!
I know that you would die before me. It’s the natural order. But I thought we had hope. Something to give us more time. I NEED YOU! I was going to talk to you about stuff and decided to wait and now it may be too late. I may never get that chance. And don’t tell me that my dad will hear me. I needed to have that conversation.
So God, I am begging you. I will give up days out of my own life if I had to bargain. Let my dad come back to us. Just give us a little more time. I love dancing with my dad. My mom met my dad dancing. Let us have one more dance.
The Cancer Chronicles 