Tom (Final)

Ever since I was a child, my father and my grandfather have always been like superman. I never once saw them cry, fall down and rock themselves, or beg for the mothers. Instead I saw them yell profanity, put duck tap on something or simply “power through.”

When my sister came back for her spring break she told me something that I never really thought I would hear. “Grandpa Tom has cancer,” she said almost without flinching. She had time to absorb the information before she told me and it was more of a kick in the face then anything. To me I could help but start to cry. My grandfather and I have always been close, I know he’s only human, but when you’re a child, they really are Superman.

This past weekend I decided to come home and see my family. Sitting there with my family I realized for the first time what it meant to cherish loved ones. When I was 14 my mother was diagnosed with MS or Multiple Sclerosis. Back then I knew my mother would be ok. Growing up I had seen her fall to pieces, call her own mother for advice and weep when the tears needed to fall. I knew that she was only human. Five years later I can say that my mother is MS free and helping other MS people as well. Yet that was the difference.

As I sat with my parents and grandparents, I couldn’t help but look at Tom and see the fear on his face. To see a man of that stature and grace seem too small and frail really took me back. It was at this moment that I started to question the concepts of maturity that girls and boys face when growing up. My mother let me cry when I needed to when I was young. My father however would tell me never to cry because it makes you look weak. Men it seems grow up with the mindset that babies cry, not boys, not men. Women however cry in movies, books, songs, etc. So I couldn’t help but see the correlation between it all when watching my grandfather sit there.

All of my life Tom has been that echo in the back of my head telling me to do better be better, and act stronger. Just like my father, Tom was the male figure who reminded me that life is only so long, that one day all of this will be lost forever. I know he told me that a hundred times, but as he sat there knowing that he was now a number like all the other cancer patients of the world, I’m not sure he believed his own logic.

As I hugged my grandparent’s goodbye after dinner that night, my heart sank a little. I know Tom will fight for his life to the very end. He’s been fighting for things harder than anyone I know. Yet I know, like most people, most humans, we can only fight so long.

Since I heard the news I’ve done my best to ask how he’s doing every day. I am not by any means giving up on Tom, because I know he has yet to give up on himself. I just know that if one day the fight gives out on him the world will be a little less bright.

To each lesson we are faced with, we are to learn. Through each of our heartache, we are to love, with each death we are to live.