"Why, why, why does it go this way?

Why, why, why - and all I can say -

All I know to say now is:

Somewhere down the road, there'll be answers to the questions. And somewhere down the road, though we cannot see it now. Somewhere down the road you will find mighty arms reaching for you. And they will hold the answers at the end of the road." - Amy Grant

My strong, 77 year old dad who is no ordinary senior citizen, has been diagnosed with Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma. He is in Stage IV. The week before he was diagnosed, he was here, delivering a birthday card to Drew. It was raining. He was coming from church - he was dressed in a brown blazer - his color. We commented as he made a fast trot back to the car in the rain how good he looked and what good shape he was in to be 77.

The next week, he was diagnosed. We are going through chemo treatments again (we did it once before when he beat Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia - remission for 4 years), and I wonder if the sickness Daddy is going through is from the cancer or the treatment. Both are cruel - both can be killers.

I know one thing, many people say it is so good to know - you have this time to say the things you need to say. But you don't. You live life pretending everything is just fine when you are together. He knows - we know, but we can't say it. Sometimes there's a joke about doing up a funeral just right or saying he'll be watching to make sure I'm doing things right. But on the surface, there's this awkward silence. We can't speak it. Then, it's real - there's too much emotion.

There is a difference now. My Daddy who was a tough guy who never put words to feelings is suddenly telling his children to be careful. When I say, "I love you", as I'm leaving the house, he no longer gives me an uncomfortable "all right". He says, I love you, too. It cuts like a knife, the words I longed to hear for so long I now know he is saying because he wants us to know he loves us - just in case. He knows nows the time - in case there's no more time.

I am so thankful for an earthly father who I could set the clock by. So consistent, so methodical, so faithful. I used to wish so badly he was a mushy, gushy father who told me he loved me all the time. But now, I see just how valuable those words are - how important it is for him to voice them - even though it goes against every cell in his body. We laugh because he told my mother years ago, I love you, if anything changes, I'll let you know!! He meant it. And thankfully, she was secure in those words. I hope, in their private moments, he's telling her he loves her, too. Even though I know after 54 years a lot of things have changed - but thank the Lord, not that!