Background Story

"I have very bad news to share with you, Lilly," my dad said as he sat at the table. My heart sank because what I have feared since dad began losing all that weight, the whooping coughing, tiredness; I began to pray that it wasn't what I thought it was.

"Okay, dad," my voice trembled.

He sighed and looked down at the table. "I have cancer, Lilly."

"How long?" Even though I was 23, the thought of my dad dying terrified me. I didn't want to cry.

"Six months. It's pretty advanced. Apparently, they missed it before and it has spread. Not much they can do for me." I gave my dad a hug and we both cried.

Six months. Chemotherapy, radiation, listening to my dad's struggles, meeting with hospice to prepare for the end. As a college student that worked two jobs and had no family - my mother died after giving birth to me and grandparents have died long ago - it was an exhausting time. A week before my father died, I think he gave up. He couldn't move and breathing was labored. I was instructed to give him Atovan to ease the anxiety, but he never did turn around. He was dazed and mumbled for a few days. The hospice nurses said it was the end; they took all the tubes out of him and set up the special bed for his dying at home. My father died peacefully two days later.

He never did get to see me graduate college. I'm glad he saw me graduate from high school and through the years of college, but now I had the drive to finish for him. He had always said that I should work here and live with him after I graduate, to save up and move elsewhere. He knew I've always hated it here. But, now I have no one here and as I prepare to graduate, I'm going to make a big move.