My father has cancer…

About six months ago my brother and I decided it was time to go to Florida and talk to our father about why he had decided to completely cut us from his life…It had been about six years since we had any contact with him. So we arrived unannounced at his front door…I was going to confront George Braswell The scariest man I have every known.

He had never physically hurt me…but he was a big man with a bad temper, he hurtful words over the years were still ringing in my ears (even as I stood there 43 years after I first called him Daddy). Really why was I so afraid of him?

The only question I wanted an answer to was “Do you love me?” His answer was “No.”

That was what I had always been afraid of, but hadn’t realized until that very moment. From the moment I heard him say “I will always love you, I will be your Daddy and you will be my princess”

Most likely that why I have had both silly and sensible fears of so very many things. Driving, mix masters, escalators, sewing machines…heights, caves, bats…”J” walking…men…

But in those few days I decided I refuse to never be afraid again.

Now I let the door shut when I go into the storage closet at work…I dreamed of riding in one of those little planes…I plan to sky drive and jump off a bridge…

I rode a Ferris wheel. I went to NY on a ferry and rode the subways…OK I felt like throwing up but I did it anyway.

I almost drove to Connecticut. Realized I need to work on that one but knew I could handle it one day…baby steps (maybe I will ride the Dominator before I go sky diving.)

I am not afraid of living and I am not afraid of dying.

But when my hero called me…

I wrapped myself in my blanket…I am afraid.

My hero has cancer. My father is not my hero.