Early morning walks when the light is coming on, the sky peach and the mountains blue. A morning like this your dad calls to say he has cancer: not the kind to really worry about but still, “cancer.” He’s trying to spare you and he’s never had cancer before or told his son and he’s scared. He describes the MRI and asks how you’re doing, he listens. You have to get going. He says goodnight but means goodbye. It’s just the afternoon still. You go back to your life and he, his. You sit by the waning light and think about him. And can’t help but see yourself.
Bill Pearse 
Very stirring piece – the very word “cancer” shatters one’s confidence regardless of specifics.
And that last line – so true.
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Hi Jazz, thanks—yes that will stir you I suppose, news like that…thanks for reading.
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The conversation or something like it plays out over and over.
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Uh, it’s me.
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Nice, I could tell by your commas.
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This is beautifully written. I remember how the latter years of my parents’ lives shined such an unwelcome light on my own mortality. There’s a rush to heal anything cracked in relationships with those same parents, followed by the million questions you can no longer ask them after they’re gone. Take extravagant care of your tender self. And keep writing!
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That’s a beautiful comment and insight, thanks for sharing and for visiting my blog! And for the nice encouragement, means a lot. Be well, Bill
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Powerful. Lots of depth and subtext in these few words.
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Thanks my friend! Appreciate you!
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Reminds me of a phone conversation I had some 25 years ago. It was second hand about my Dad, but the C word still reverberates.
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Thanks Dave, yes it does (reverberate!). Thanks for reading, Bill
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I never had the conversation but I can’t help but see myself.
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Thanks man…yeah, common problem I have I think.
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