2002-08-04 | SMOKIN SUCKAS WIT LOGIC

A Vague Memory:

So my dad is on his death bed, and the priest enters the room.

He doesn't speak good english. He has a very heavy Filipino accent.

He says to my mom "Has he accepted Jesus Christ as his savior?"

My mom says "Yes"

I'm thinking "Hmmmm..... I was not aware of that..."

He was a different man in certain ways after he got lung cancer. He was always a mans man. Pretty macho. He never complained about the disease. He just always looked understandably tired and cranky.

He wasn't strong any more.

Just mentally.

He couldn't throw the football anymore.

He had trouble walking.

His voice changed gradually.

He lost all his hair.

He got all spiritual. I remember coming back home after awhile and being shocked, because he wanted to say grace before eating.

I'm not a very religious man. Not at all. And my dad wasn't super religious before he got sick. Or maybe he was, and I just didn't know it. But he started talking about god and stuff alot after he got cancer.

Cancer sucks so bad.

He was in some fucking pain.

And not once did he complain.

He knew that he did it to himself.

Goddamned Marlboro Lights.

I smoke a little. I can't seem to get addicted. That's a good thing. A great thing. I wouldn't want to fight that.

He got cancer less then a year after quitting cigarettes for good.

That movie "My Life" just kills me. That Michael Keaton movie. Most people don't think it's that good, but it was a good movie to see, when finding out that my dad had cancer, and after he died I saw it again, and it was interesting.

This isn't supposed to be depressing, or sympathy begging or anything. It's just story telling.

I'm actually more sad about not being sad enough about him being gone. I got over it way too quick.

I cried alot that day. In a way, I wished I hadn't, because lately it seems I have a shortage of tears.

I like to cry.

It makes me feel human.

My ducts are fuct

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