Of course, it would be right after I talked to my friend last night about the death of his father two weeks ago, that my aunt would call me to let me know that my father has a couple days left to live. She did so, while I was hungover and sick and frying up a pan of bacon. She has given me dire prognoses before that death was imminent, but never one with an actual timeframe. His cancer has spread to his brain. He is now paralyzed and does not recognize anyone. This, my father.

It is weird to think about this for many of the reasons I talked about last night with this friend, talking about what role messed up fathers play in our lives. It is good to meet other people that are more accepting of human faults and understanding that everyone's imperfect, some people more so than others, but that is life. My sister, not one of these people that accepts this, but everyone reacts how they have to and you can't fault them for that. My father wants to be cremated. I don't really understand the details of what will happen with these ashes, but supposedly my aunt is going to hold a memorial service in Land O'Lakes because that is where she lives, but I am not real sure who is going to this since no one lives there but her, and there is also supposed to be one in Montclair, where he has more family. Most likely, I will go to Montclair since it is a bus trip away. I think I still don't believe it since he has outlived every death forecast given to him. Four years ago, he was told he had six months to live. My aunt, his sister, today said that he has outlived what anybody predicted and that is because as both of us know, he is stubborn. At this my aunt laughed, and it was the first time I had heard her laugh, not holding back tears in years. She said that she was going to miss him something terrible. I thought of what a choice phrase that was. And her laughter is what I think should be the rule rather the exception - that it is all too beautiful and too funny and too short to do anything but