training before I’d be a great ballet dancer, and my father didn’t have years. He had months, maybe weeks—maybe days. I felt like an invisible timer was hovering over my head. I could hear it ticking, but I had no way of knowing when it would hit zero.
Chapter 9
Travels with My Dad
A s the plane circled Chicago’s O’Hare airport, Dad began to feel weak. The color drained from his face, and even though sweat was dripping down his forehead, he shivered.
“Excuse me, but could we get a blanket, please?” Mom asked the flight attendant. We were flying coach, and it looked like she was about to tell us they didn’t have blankets on board. But then she saw Dad.
“Of course. I’ll find something,” she said.
When she came back, she brought him a blanket and gently tucked it in around him. Even though she didn’t know about the cancer, it was obvious by this point that Dad was dying, and everyone could see it.
By the time we landed, Dad needed a wheelchair to make our connecting flight. It made me wonder if this trip had been a good idea. Dad desperately wanted to see his mother before he died, but she had Alzheimer’s and was too sick to leave California. So we were going to her.
Everyone knew this would be the last trip, so our entire extended family was gathering for a week in San Jose. My cousins Emily and Pearl drove from San Francisco, my auntie Alicia and uncle Franco flew in from Las Vegas, and my auntie Kristin, uncle David, and their kids, Ashleigh and Alissa, flew up from Los Angeles. Other relatives also came from all over California. But Po Po was too sick to leave Oakland, so we had to go visit her. Because she had Alzheimer’s, no one had told her that Dad had cancer.
As we arrived in San Jose, Mom kept checking to make sure Dad felt okay. Maybe it was the ocean breeze, or knowing that he would soon see his mother, but as soon as he stepped off the plane in California, a twinkle returned to Dad’s eye. For the first time in a while, it was like he wasn’t sick. When the flight attendants asked if he needed a wheelchair, he waved them away. He held Mom’s arm, but he walked out of the airport on his own two feet, and I could tell how happy that made him.
We rented a giant minivan so that we could do touristy things but always have a place where Dad could sit (or even lie down) if he needed.
“Your dad is very sick,” Mom had cautioned us before we left, “so we might not do a lot of activities. Okay? We’re going to only do what Dad can do, and that’ll have to be enough.”
“Always looking out for me.” Dad smiled and kissed her on the cheek. I knew it made him sad to admit how sick he was, but he was happy to have such a wife, who cared for him so much.
Luckily, Dad found a reserve of strength somewhere deep inside him. For that entire week in California, it was as though he wasn’t sick. We went everywhere. It was the best trip of my life.
One of my favorite parts was dinner at Auntie Polly’s house. It was like footage from a Disney movie. Everyone was just so happy. Auntie Polly made dinner for about one hundred when there were only about fifteen of us. Every single dish was a different color and had a different taste. There was so much laughter and joy in the room, I never wanted to go. Leaving her house was like the day after Christmas. You couldn’t wait until the next time.
My favorite memory was being at the ocean with my dad. Dad loved the ocean, so we spent at least part of every day by the water. He took Matt and me to see the seals on the pier at Santa Cruz. We went to Monterey Bay to watch the surfers, and to visit the aquarium. In the afternoon, we played games on the boardwalk with our cousins, who we never got to see much. Dad watched with a smile on his face. He was always happiest when we were all together.
“Family,” Uncle David said as he dropped down to sit next to my father. “It’s the most important thing in life. We should do this more
Chapter 9
Travels with My Dad
A s the plane circled Chicago’s O’Hare airport, Dad began to feel weak. The color drained from his face, and even though sweat was dripping down his forehead, he shivered.
“Excuse me, but could we get a blanket, please?” Mom asked the flight attendant. We were flying coach, and it looked like she was about to tell us they didn’t have blankets on board. But then she saw Dad.
“Of course. I’ll find something,” she said.
When she came back, she brought him a blanket and gently tucked it in around him. Even though she didn’t know about the cancer, it was obvious by this point that Dad was dying, and everyone could see it.
By the time we landed, Dad needed a wheelchair to make our connecting flight. It made me wonder if this trip had been a good idea. Dad desperately wanted to see his mother before he died, but she had Alzheimer’s and was too sick to leave California. So we were going to her.
Everyone knew this would be the last trip, so our entire extended family was gathering for a week in San Jose. My cousins Emily and Pearl drove from San Francisco, my auntie Alicia and uncle Franco flew in from Las Vegas, and my auntie Kristin, uncle David, and their kids, Ashleigh and Alissa, flew up from Los Angeles. Other relatives also came from all over California. But Po Po was too sick to leave Oakland, so we had to go visit her. Because she had Alzheimer’s, no one had told her that Dad had cancer.
As we arrived in San Jose, Mom kept checking to make sure Dad felt okay. Maybe it was the ocean breeze, or knowing that he would soon see his mother, but as soon as he stepped off the plane in California, a twinkle returned to Dad’s eye. For the first time in a while, it was like he wasn’t sick. When the flight attendants asked if he needed a wheelchair, he waved them away. He held Mom’s arm, but he walked out of the airport on his own two feet, and I could tell how happy that made him.
We rented a giant minivan so that we could do touristy things but always have a place where Dad could sit (or even lie down) if he needed.
“Your dad is very sick,” Mom had cautioned us before we left, “so we might not do a lot of activities. Okay? We’re going to only do what Dad can do, and that’ll have to be enough.”
“Always looking out for me.” Dad smiled and kissed her on the cheek. I knew it made him sad to admit how sick he was, but he was happy to have such a wife, who cared for him so much.
Luckily, Dad found a reserve of strength somewhere deep inside him. For that entire week in California, it was as though he wasn’t sick. We went everywhere. It was the best trip of my life.
One of my favorite parts was dinner at Auntie Polly’s house. It was like footage from a Disney movie. Everyone was just so happy. Auntie Polly made dinner for about one hundred when there were only about fifteen of us. Every single dish was a different color and had a different taste. There was so much laughter and joy in the room, I never wanted to go. Leaving her house was like the day after Christmas. You couldn’t wait until the next time.
My favorite memory was being at the ocean with my dad. Dad loved the ocean, so we spent at least part of every day by the water. He took Matt and me to see the seals on the pier at Santa Cruz. We went to Monterey Bay to watch the surfers, and to visit the aquarium. In the afternoon, we played games on the boardwalk with our cousins, who we never got to see much. Dad watched with a smile on his face. He was always happiest when we were all together.
“Family,” Uncle David said as he dropped down to sit next to my father. “It’s the most important thing in life. We should do this more
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