If you are reading this for the first time and want to hear the whole story, look under "BLOG ARCHIVE" on the right. Read the oldest blog first, starting with "The Diagnosis" in January 2009 (click on it) and continuing down. The blog you see below is the most recent and you want to read it last.

Monday, November 8, 2010

It's All Right Now

I have found out a little more about my present situation but I don’t want to talk about that right now. The last time I posted I asked for your prayers that I have enough time to finish the things I need to finish. Those prayers, and thank you for them, have been answered. But as always they have been answered God’s way. He knows what’s best. The most important thing for me is to be sure, as sure as I can be, that my children are headed down the right path in life and that they believe and understand some things that I think I have learned. I have known for a while that my daughter Heather shares my values politically and economically. We have a similar sense of humor. Recently we had a discussion about death, Heaven, and the afterlife. We are in sync spiritually too. My biggest concern with Heather was that she be happy. I will never forget how happy she was on her wedding day and she’s still happy. I’m counting on that lasting forever, thanks to her husband Ed. My son AJ is tougher for me because he’s not easy to talk to and there is so much I want him to know. I have said it before and I think all my other loved ones understand when I say this. AJ has given me more joy in life than anyone. We spent countless days together as he was growing up and they always filled me with happiness and pride. AJ was always supportive of me, even when I was scolding or punishing him. AJ was all I had as an immediate family when I was going through the divorce with his mother. Friday night AJ sent me a letter which I will share with his permission. The first time I saw my father cry was when his friend Mr. Kahn died. I don't remember exactly when it was or how old I was. But I do remember him crying in the bathroom. I walked away and went up to my room completely baffled. Here was the strongest man in my life crying and looking so terribly helpless. I had no idea what to think or do. But I realized then that it was ok to cry, no matter who you were. I don't cry very often. And when I do, there is usually no one else around. I like to think that I can handle myself better in situations such as this. But the truth is, when I read my dad's blog, or when i see him struggle with things that used to be so easy for him, or when I think about life without him, I cry. And I cry hard. But I know it's ok. Because I saw my dad do it and he's the strongest person I know. I'm not one to talk about emotional things such as this with anyone. Whether it be my father, mother, sister, girlfriend. I don't know why, but I feel that sometimes I could talk to a stranger and tell him so much more than i could ever tell anyone in my life. Which is pretty much the motive for this email I am sending to my dad. I fear just as he does, just as my family does, that time may be running out on us. And this may be the only chance I get to tell him what he was to me. When I think of my dad, I remember many things. Soccer is my favorite memory. He drove me to hundreds of tournaments, miles and miles away, weekend after weekend. He showed up at high school games in the middle of his work day. He bought me the best gloves and cleats and shirts, and training that he could buy. And although he kicked a ball like a guy who's shoes were on backwards and eyes were closed, he always had the right advice for me. He was my best trainer. He was a much better baseball player. And I remember all the catches we would have in the front yard. It was a good time every time we went out there. Sometimes he would take me out only hours after yelling at and punishing me for some completely ridiculous thing i just did. It felt like it was his way of saying "Son, you're a moron for (insert dumbass thing I did here). But I still love you and you need to know that." My father always pressed my sister and I to study study study and get good grades. It worked for her but not so much me. She is the college graduate while I am still on Spring Break 2004. But nonetheless, he tried. He tried his ass off to get me to be a good student but I guess it just wasn't in me. But even when I missed baseball freshman year because of my grades and when i dropped out of East Stroudsburg, when I left County College, as disappointed as he was, he always reassured me that I would make it out ok. My mother may have been a bit more understanding in this department but it helped knowing that my father also had my back. My parents were good parents. Even though they didn't work well together and had two completely different parenting styles (like way way different), they were good. And I would never ask for any of them to be substituted. As difficult a son I was, I am a grateful one now. These past few years of been hard. I often find myself wondering if my dad will be at my wedding or meet my first kid. I doubted it many many times. But just as soon as I doubt it, he does or says something that makes me believe again. I have had bad feelings lately that maybe we are indeed running out of time. And I am just waiting for some good news. My dad took me to the cemetery the other day. He showed me where he will be buried, next to his father. I was ready to start crying. But I thought to myself, all those times my dad was the stronger one, I think I owe it to him to be the strong one now. I still can't look at him when he cries, it's just too hard. I have been diagnosed myself with Gastroesophogeal Reflux Disorder and I also have a hernia that I just found out about. It worries me knowing that pretty much everyone in my family has had or has cancer. I can't say I'm 100 percent in love with my chances of not getting it one day. The only thing I can say is that when my days are winding down, hopefully 100 years from now, I am as strong, as ready, and as understanding of the situation as my father is. My father is my hero. He always has been, always will be. He is the strongest most invincible person I know. He was my teacher, my coach, my critic, my partner, and my friend. And I will never forget him and all that he did to make me who I am. I don’t think I’ll ever finish everything I want to finish but it doesn’t matter. Knowing that Heather is happy and knowing that AJ appreciated all the times that were so special to me and that I had a positive influence on his life is enough. If God takes me tomorrow he will be taking me after having given me the greatest of gifts, my children. Carry on Heather. Carry on AJ. I love you. ----------------------------------

6 comments:

  1. Oh my - that made me cry. That was a beautiful tribute that your son wrote to you. I'm so glad your kids love and appreciate you, and that they can tell you!

    My idea of a bucket list would not be a bunch of great adventures, but a bunch of moments making important connections with people who are important to you. It sounds like that's what you're doing!

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  2. P.S. I hope your son will do everything possible to get his reflux under control, and that he'll get his esophagus scoped periodically. He probably thinks he has a good 20 years before he needs to worry about cancer. Travis was 33 when he was diagnosed. It was only then that we became aware of many others in their 30's. The treatment is not so great - we need to figure out how to PREVENT this!

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  3. You are a wonderful father to your children and I am sure they appreciate everything you do for them. I check on you every day hoping for a 'cancer free' blog entry. You are in my thoughts and prayers...
    Bridget

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  4. Jerry, I appreciated this entry so much. None of us has control over when we are born or when we leave here, but we can at least tell our family and friends how much they mean to us.

    Our children were 37, 32 and 30 this past July when Larry left. Each one knew how much they meant to Larry. Each one got to tell him countless times how much they appreciated him. What more can you ask for in this life?

    Your life has counted for much, Jerry. To obtain the love and respect of your children is high praise, indeed. Your children are at an age where they have the energy to be idealistic, to strive to be like their father. Your words will ring truer to them after you are gone than they ever did while you were here. If you read the Bible, take some time to underline in it, to write your thoughts in it. They will treasure it forever.

    Some people have lived longer, some shorter but, in the end, you have lived well. Years here do not matter in the light of eternity, Jerry.

    Carry on, dear friend I love but have never met.

    Marilee Alvey

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  5. What a wonderful tribute to a wonderful father!

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