Dad

The Oncologist said: “It’s lymphoma, the aggressive kind.  It could be weeks.  It could be next week.  Tell your brother to come NOW!”

My brother said: “Come NOW!”

I said: “I’m coming.”

My wife said: “I’m coming with you.”

My mother said:  “I want to go with him.”

My Palestinian Muslim neighbor, himself an old man, said: “We all die.  Your father is in the hands of Allah.”

My Palestinian Christian (Greek Orthodox) neighbor, likewise old, said: “First he dies, then he lives. Go to the church and light a candle.”  He meant his church, the Church of the Resurrection.  I went.  I lit a candle.  Right next to the empty tomb, I lit a candle.

My daughter said: “Is grandpa in pain?”

My son said: “Can grandpa talk on the phone?”

Sunday’s preacher said: “Your sins are forgiven!”  She said it like she believed it – said it over and over again – “Your sins are forgiven.”  Maybe she said it like she believed it, and over and over again, because she really didn’t believe it, but wanted to – or at least wanted us to.  But she said it.  “Your sins are forgiven!”

My father said: “I’m ready to go.”

My mother said: “I don’t want you to go.”

My brother said: “I’m glad you’re here.

I said: “Damn.”

You said what?

I said: “Damn.”

Damn?  To your mother?

Yes.

What did she say?

Nodding and crying, my mother said: “Yeah.  Yeah.”

And my father’s Father in Heaven, turned to the Son, and said: “He’s got that about right I guess.”

And the Son said: “Yeah.  Forgive him, he doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

And my father’s Father in Heaven said: “Yeah he does.  And yeah, I did.”