Thursday, March 20, 2008


My Dad's crazy little brother is dying. He's in the last few weeks (?) of terminal prostate cancer. He's only 63, just became a Grandpa literally 2 weeks ago and he's decided to stop chemo and get ready to go. He's lived an insane and crazy life, most of it before I was born. I've loved hearing the stories about him and it's hard to believe he's had the balls to do some of the things he's done. Like crash a plane with his daughter in it and walk away. Like skydive something like over 200 times (and on the 200th time, he broke his leg!). Water-skiing, snow skiing, white water rafting, hiking, camping, biking. Just living, you know? And now it's time for him to go. I have mixed feeling about this whole thing. I am really far removed from everything, so I can kinda pretend it's not happening, although I know it is. He's been so sick and so far from what he normally was that his passing might be a blessing. At the same time, I don't want my cousin to lose her father at age 30 and I don't want her son to grow up without knowing the ridiculously crazy, insane, out of this world Grandpa he has. I don't want my Dad to lose his little brother. I don't want my Grandpa to lose his son. I don't want my Aunt to lose a husband. I don't want him to go because I don't know where he'll go. I don't want to go home in two weeks and have to deal with this whole thing. I want to to deny that it's happening and pretend it's not going on. I just wish there were such things as miracles.

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