Back in 1995, I was finishing up my MBA. I had spent way too many evenings away from home and family. One Wednesday evening, I didn't have any classwork and was able to pick the boys up from church. On the way home, the two boys were chattering away in the back seat, when Chad asked, "Daddy, how much longer do you have to go to school?" I replied, "Just a few more weeks, why?" Shane then said, "We just want our daddy back." Ouch! I had not considered how my being gone so much affected the boys.
That memory came back to me the other day while I was out for my walk. Walking is about the only form of exercise that I can get these days. Sometimes during my walks, I start to think how much cancer has taken from me and my family. Pieces of my life are gone, and life will never be the same. I am slowly coming to grips with that, but what disturbs me the most is that it just does not seem right that my family has to go through this.
I remember the first time I saw my dad in a real medical emergency. He was much older than I am now, and I was much older than the boys. I still remember how my heart ached when I realized that he someday would be gone. When I remember that, it just really saddens me that at this time in their lives my boys should have to think about things like that and watch their daddy as bits of his life fade away.
This next week, that little guy in the back seat turns twenty-one. More than anything else, I wish I could give him his daddy back.