Breaking Up with our Surgeon

"My time with you has come to an end..." he says, crossing his left leg over his right, "there is nothing left for me to do for you right now..."

We sit in silent shock as he is filling out the referral back to the oncologist.

I do not think either of us thought about this news in our journey.

All I can do is look at his hands.

Hands that held my husbands life in them---- three different times.

Hands that removed cancer, removed organs and rearranged my honeys inside so that he could still be here.

He skirted hospital protocol so I could visit with my honey after ten hours of surgery.

He said "I'll take care of that too..." when others claimed "inoperable."

He called us on the weekend to share the latest results.

He answered his cellphone every time we called.

He listened as we asked loads of questions.

He printed out things before I asked because he knew I would want to add them to my "Mike's care notebook."

He showed up when nurses said "surgeons don't come in here."

He made us feel special.

And he shared his own story with us, as he added chapters to ours.

"I feel like he just broke up with us!" I whisper to Mike.

Who knew breaking up with your surgeon would be so sad!?!

But thank you Chris for giving me more time with my honey here.

And I hope to never see you again.

Unless we stumble upon you dancing in the streets of Miami.

~!written by Sarah Elliott

Easy to pick out

"Okay! This time! I don't think you're capable of the next one. Never mind. You can't do it," I say dismissively waving my hand."

"I CAN TOO DADDY" Che defiantly shoots back.

"You cannot," I answer taking my eyes off our excited tanned, baby-turned-little-girl and gazing at the perfectly quaint water park my wife found us a last minute deal to execute an escape.

God we needed an escape!

Che stomps her feet in the water, marches straight to me, splashes water in my face, grabs my cheeks, stares directly into my eyes, breaths hot air at me and yells, "I CAN TOO!" 

"Fine," I say uncaringly. "If you want to try. No girls ever done it before though."

"DADDY!" she screams!

"Okay," I answer disinterested, "Swim under those three fountains without getting wet, then stick your face DIRECTLY into those six fountains, and if you survive that," I grab her dripping face staring directly into her eyes, "WALK UNDER THOSE TWO DRIPPING MUSHROOM'S AND NOT TAKE YOUR HEAD OUT," I release her chin, "and if you can still breath, float on your back WITHOUT TURNING OVER until you touch my feet!"

"Watch this old man!" she determinedly grins, belly flopping into the pool.

Turning up my ear pods so "The Boat Drunks" sing about my friend the "Hollow Man," I watch Che strategically maneuver her head under spraying fountains and take a moment.

I hope Sarah's resting. Cassidy joined us at the last minute so when one child isn't clamoring for her Mother's attention, the other one is, and if they're not, then I usually am.

Her lone goal on this trip is to float alone down the Lazy River but it's not looking good so far.

A little blond hair boy excitedly jumps in the pool directly in front of me. disrupting my bliss.

A tiny boat in one hand, a dinosaur in the other and a Wonder Woman action figure in his mouth, the kid's all smiles.

A giant splash erupts at my feet as Che pops out the water grinning, grabbing me in the face, looking directly into my eyes, and yelling while water drips down her face, "I DID IT DA!"

In a nanosecond, spying the little boy, she’s in his face, saying something I don't comprehend, grabs the boat, takes off for the safety of the dripping mushrooms as the boy, breaks into a grin before chasing after her.

"I don't leak very much,"  the Hollow Man continues.

"A strong woman marches in, takes what she wants and walks away," a woman says. 

A short, beached blond hair, pasty white skin woman, wearing an orange-and-white bikini is grinning at me. She's about my age. Wears glasses. Her two front teeth have a gap between them and her lips never quite cover them when she closes her mouth.

"I'm sorry," I say, understanding it's me she's talking to.

"Your granddaughter ..." she begins.

"MY DAUGHTER," I snap.

Her bottom lip covers what the top lip doesn't.

"You gotta be careful of girls like that," she goes on.

"Yeah?"

"Oh, I can pick em out," she explains. "They wear leopard skin print bikinis'."

"Really?" I answer simultaneously stifling a laugh.  

"Oh yeah! Easy to spot."

It takes everything inside of me to not fall face down in the pool laughing.

Che's playing with all of the toys beside the six splashing fountains as the boy searches for them and his grandmother's suddenly concerned my daughter's not giving them back.

I laughingly make my way over and hurriedly retrieve the toys from Che, who shrugs her shoulder and keeps playing without them.

I rush to get back to Sarah on the other side of the pool.

Tossing the toys to the grandmother, she smiles as I laughingly make my way to my wife, quickly plop beside her and tell her way just happened.

My girl in the leopard print bikini and I hug and laugh like crazy for all the world to see. 

“What’s so funny?” Cass asks, lounging in her own chair, also wearing a leopard print bikini.  

A dying man wonders what’s on Netflix?

"Do you feel like you're dying?" she asks after we've collapsed on the sofa, just after dark, and Che's gone to sleep.

Laurel's at work and Cassidy's at her Dad's so it's just us.

She's leaned her head on my shoulder, a rare thing because Sarah spends the first hour of nightly "Couch Time" either working or managing thousands of things I blissfully am completely unaware.

The second hour we normally watch something on Netflix, talk about the day during our nightly routines, collapse in bed where I immediately fall asleep while my wife reads for another hour.

Unless Laurel's home.

All bets are off if Laurel's home!

If she's home early, she dominates the couch, speaks in tongues without ceasing, prevents Sarah from taking care of business and me concentrating. If she's home late, she'll crawl in bed with us to relay whatever it is that's important at the moment, which is, of course, everything!

But tonight it's just us and my wife's head's resting on my shoulder.

We're so tired.

Everything takes monumental effort.

I know she wants to dive into her work, help Maddie plan the move into her new apartment, answer Cassidy's latest crisis or planning trips for us sometime in the future which she enjoys doing most.

This time of night, sitting beside Sarah, mindlessly watching Netflix, coming down from the "high" that got me through another day, is when I'm most relaxed and resting.

We're both so jealous for this time that we rarely disrupt our beloved routine so it's pretty seismic if my girl's head is on my shoulder.

I love the smell of her hair, how it falls over my shoulder too with her head this way and words to a song float through my head, Blondie's "warm and soft, in the flesh.”  Sarah hasn’t cut her hair in forever, carrying the burdens of its weight and never quite drying around because she loves me. She knows I love her hair. 

"I dunno," I say feeling so completely one with her at the moment that there's no thinking, just honest answers. 

"I don't feel like I'm dying. I don't want to ever feel that way. But everything's different."

"How?" she asks.

When Sarah's voice is soft, Angels cry because they know defeat when they hear it.

I am so in love.

"I don't know," I finally say.

Honest answers hang in the air.

"I'm gonna treat you like you're well because I don't know what else to do," are her words.

And all the emotion comes out of me with tears so mighty Mack Kitchens would kite sail around the world sending back the best damn little videos.

The answers are gone and only honesty remains.

The simplest, messiest, wet, sloppy, not-quite-on-the-mouth-but-not-quite-off-either, best fucking kiss of my life happens next.

The Kingdom of God comes on earth as it is in Heaven!

We both exhale deeply.

Sarah slides over picking up the remote.

I cover with the blanket.

Lainey lays between us.

Who cares what's on Netflix?

Terminal Dating

And POOF!!

Our little girl is gone!

Confidently strolling down the long hallway of Marshpoint Elementary School, blazing blue moon eyes full of wonder, Che only looks back when the instructor orders, flashing the quickest of waves, purposely storming forward into her future.

It's her Mom Che wants at the last moment before entering, holding her tight, pleading, the slightest tinge of fear in her eyes. 

Soft, thundering encouraging words ensue from the wonder of a woman huddling over the last vestiges of our baby to become a little girl.

When Sarah lets Che's hand go, our girl walks in the school like she's owns it.

I'm a proud witness of a daughter's deep unspoken bond with her Mother, something I'm so grateful they'll always share, especially when I'm not around.

I'll be honest though, it's hard.

A crazy gumbo of emotions engulf me though it's surreal, I watch from the Valley of the Shadow of Death as almost an Angel, perhaps Ghostlike, and I hold it together.

It seems akin to an out-of-body experience!

I'm certainly here, watching Sarah huddle protectively as Clare casts off the last of the eggshells holding her back to who she's been until now.

I feel my wife's enthusiasm walking home from the school, pumping her fist heavenward, thanking God the pandemic's under control enough to get kids back in school!

My own overarching desire to be free from obligations to simply date Sarah swells and I even tell her, though we're rushing home to have time. 

Once home the time's eaten  by Sarah's work, my Doctor's appointments, Laurel and Cass's schools and short term planning because long term's simply not realistic at this time.

She and I are in a hurry to date again.

There were too many children involved when we were courting. 

Now we want to date without kids.

Life's both normal and terminal at the same time.

I'm not smart enough to understand how this is possible but Sarah and I are pulling it off!

Well, it's mostly Sarah who insists on "normal" and, thank God she does, because I seem to continue my terminal slide but she keeps it fun!

That's not to say Wonder Woman isn't occasionally Bat shit crazy, because she is, but there's never any question about her heart.

Whereas I'm almost always Bat shit crazy leaving nothing to wonder about and my heart's been forged stronger than ever before because love is all around.

I feel it in my fingers.

I feel it in my toes.

You know what that means!

IF, and that's a big "IF" because we got a lot of kids, so if we actually pull off a date, I hope I can feel the menu in my fingers.

And Sarah's toes on mine. 

This surreal feeling grows but love is all around me.

So these feelings grow.

Holding Love

 

"READY WHEN YOU ARE!"

Entering the hall, clothes are everywhere as Cassidy tosses things she's already tried on while simultaneously sliding on something else and asking me how she looks.

Home from College, Maddie lounges in Laurel's bedroom, surfing her phone, taking a break from the nonstop adoration of her baby sister.

Che has Maddie's boyfriend Henry playing a never ending game of something loud in her room.

No one's ready when I am.

"I GOTTA GO!" I yell. 

Everyone starts moving at the same time. Suddenly, I'm standing still as a hurricane blows, kids here, kids there, snippets of conversation, activity everywhere except the space I occupy.

"Be ready in a minute," Henry chipperly explains.

"Come back and pick me up," Che softly says.

Maddie hurls the names of toys and dresses to be purchased, destinations to hit, and time table to adhere to after they drop me off at the Hospital.

"Let's Go," Maddie yells.

"What?" Cass asks from underneath  mountain of clothes.

"Come back and get me when it's time to shop," Che quietly says.

It's all a whirlwind to me.

"Aw, shit!" I mutter. "If Sarah were here she'd make sense of all of this."

My wife's at a volunteer orientation for The Savannah Arts Academy because she likes to keep busy.

That was sarcasm.

My wife is a wonder of a woman.

"Alright!" Henry announces though no one's does anything.

"Come back later for me," I hear.

Che's on the floor holding one of the dolls she and Henry had played with.

"This isn't going to work," I say, suddenly understanding. Che is frightened to watch me dropped off at the Hospital for the MRI. We haven't spoken about it but she somehow knows what's going on. It's a big day and she's struggling to manage as best as a 4 year old can.

"I'll drive myself if you can't take me," I say to Henry.

The Hurricane grows louder. Maddie's barking orders. Cass is yelling. Henry's asking questions. 

As everyone talks over one another, Che quetly reaches between their knees and hugs me. 

"I lub you Daddy," she says with eyes as earnest as the darkest corners of night determined to shine. "Come home" and she darts back inside her bedroom with Henry. 

Within minutes, Maddie's driving and chatting with Cass in the front seat.

"I didn't think about it her way," Maddie explains at one point.

Sarah and I are accustomed to thinking about it this way.

Che too.

Earlier, before the Hurricane, Sarah and I walk into the front yard as she prepares to leave.

Our eyes lock ... "Yep" we say and embrace ... I've never felt love that way before ... holding one another with every fiber of our being ... I thought I knew what love felt like ... I didn't ... now I do.

"I'll be waiting," she says, climbing behind the wheel, smiling, exhausted, sexy and determined.

The same feeling of love hovers in the waiting room later as we wait on the Doctor by planning trips to exotic islands in the next few weeks.

We know the results the moment Dr. Senkowski's eyes meet ours.

"My part accompanying you on your journey is over," he smiles sadly.

"Well," Sarah says taking the steering wheel to drive home afterwards, we hold hands in silence catching our breaths. There's nothing to say.

At the house, the Hurricane resumes though I take Che outside to the hammock in the shady part of the back yard.

"Daddy's okay," I tell her.

A little light shines from the darkest corners of the night.

Unsure, she hugs me while hurriedly saying she needs Maddie, climbing out the hammock and speeding away!

We celebrate the night like the craziest of families through dinner at J Thomas under the constant supervision of our friend Elizabeth, laughing and loving our life together.

Later, it's quiet as Sarah and I process our future.

Maddie and Henry's returned to Athens. Laurel sees us between dates. Cass is hemming her new school clothes so they're shorter. Che draws a picture while sitting cuddled with her Mother.

"Wait till you see it," Sarah excitedly confided before it's presented to us.

Here we are.

Holding love like you've never felt it before.

Waiting together to see what's next.

Johnny O and me

 

“I must be getting worse because Sarah’s starting to treat me like I’m sick,” I type into my phone. 

My perpetually cold, yet extremely tanned feet, rests on the table of the new and vastly improved beloved back deck, while I consider the future. 

My phone buzzes so I read his reply, "Don't fall for that shit!"

Laughter erupts from deep inside and, in a nanosecond, whatever depressing thing I'd been focusing on evaporates and I can't wait to tell Sarah.

It's so good to laugh!

"You look like shit!" he cheerfully proclaims the next morning at 7:30 after I open the door.

"You're just telling me that!" I answer.

"I am," he grins, "You look great!"

Knowing how quickly I tire of being told I look great having stage 4 pancreatic cancer, John always tells me the opposite to make me feel better!

And it works!

He's made me laugh for decades now through a friendship that laid it's seed on the westside of the county shortly before we actually met. 

Anyway Johnny O is on his way to his next movie audition.

Sarah and I have seen every one of John's movies and if you haven't, then do yourself a favor, watch them all and see the best 42 seconds of acting ever!

Johnny’s already famous so that’s not what drives his acting ambition. The truth is he’s already held jobs doing everything else. Acting is the only thing the man hasn’t done in life so he’s knocking it off the list.

Unbelievably though, he really is a good actor   

I believe his talent was carefully built upon every lie he ever told after being caught.

You may also not be aware that John O’Neil was the person who originally coin s the phrase, “It wasn’t me.”

He says it with the straightest face every time regardless of the situation.

The Tybee Island Police Chief watches John rearrange all the letters on the sign in front of City Hall announcing Elvis’ upcoming concert on the Pier.

“It wasn’t me,” John explains after the Chief confronts him. 

“Alright then,” the Chief says.

That’s some powerful acting there!

Regardless, Johnny and I have been friends forever. We’ve done lots of things together, like plastering 1,000 “Clothing Optional” bumper stickers all over … the place we were at then!

I can’t say where it was because of statue of limitation laws   

Johnny was also best man at our wedding.

He passed out right after the vows.

He says somebody slipped a “Mikey” in the drink he was holding during the service.

It’s okay.  

He called Sarah and I to apologize the next day on our honeymoon.

I’m thinking about lots of things these days, a few depressing as Hell.

But then Johnny shows up out of nowhere, packing like always, and makes Sarah and me laugh.

It is the best medicine.

And Johnny, thank you!

Breakfast Play

 

Che and I are having breakfast outside today just because she wants to, reminding me of how much I love to.

Flies are enjoying her cinnamon toast.

She’s busy enjoying something else.

It’s the thing about this gift of life … there’s just so much to enjoy it’s hard to fit it all in.

“But it’s still your birthday,” she protests while I take down the banner Sarah Elliott hung to celebrate my day.

“It sure is,” I smile.

There’s some bad in my life but it’s mostly good!

Thank you for taking the time out of your life to help celebrate mine!!

I’m awash in your friendship and love.

Plus, I got a hot wife and the cutest kid ever and you better believe we got things to do today.

I hope you enjoy yours as much as we’re going to celebrate ours!

Let’s go play!

SURPRISED

 

"Little surprised to hear from you ..." he writes in to a message I'd sent.

I'd been listening to music, which I do a lot these days, and really missing live music ... the old Monty Parks Acoustic Jam at Doc's Bar ... the Ducted Taped Band at Bar Church ... jamming and talking music with Mitch Wesley. 

This got me missing specific songs written and preformed by incredibly talented musicians and friends. I wrote one to say how much I appreciated his songs, that I miss them, implying they're still alive inside of me somehow long after they were last sang. 

And I surprise him!

"I wonder why he's surprised?"

AWE MAN! He must think I've already died so that's why he's surprised.  

It's a natural mistake. 

Pancreatic Cancer + Micheal = not going to hear from him anymore!

So I write him back asking, "Why are you surprised?"

He doesn't reply.

Suddenly I wonder if I've been blackballed or something?

I was blackballed by the Eastside Savannah Rotary Club years ago so completely understand how it works!

Now I can't stop wondering what I was blackballed from?

I tell Sarah about it and she shrugs her shoulders though later she asks if I've heard anything. When I tell her no, she shrugs her shoulders.

Sarah did put on Facebook that I rarely pick up the guitar anymore and Che chided me for it.

I wonder if that got me blackballed?

It couldn't have been anything I've done recently to provoke anybody because I don't do those things anymore.

Sarah may not agree.

Then I get to thinking about how I could really surprise him if I got in touch AFTER I've died.

Now that would be surprising!

The point is every day I happily wake up resolved to celebrate life to it's fullest! Mostly that means loving Sarah, raising Che, sharing confidences with the girls, listening to music I relish, getting high and having flashbacks.

Most of the time my flashbacks involve living people so, if I have the energy and time, which is very rare, I get in touch to share the moment. 

I want to say thank you for your gifts to me.

God we had some fun!

I'm having fun with Sarah and the girls now and hope you're having as much fun as we are!

I don't have time for being blackballed!

As I often say to Che, "C'mon! We got stuff to do!" but every once in a while, it's nice to stop and say thanks.

There and not really here!

It's hard making myself eat.

Every meal!

I have to psych myself up for even the most tasty plates.

Once I get started, I'm normally okay but the beginning is often traumatic!

I eat very little, very slowly and it gives the appearance I savor each bite, thoughtfully enjoying dinner conversations.

The truth is that I'm concentrating on chewing.

It's hard to chew when you don't really want to eat.

I sigh a lot during meals, throwing Sarah and the girls into "emergency mode" because I might get sick again and nobody wants that.

I've had two really good days in a row and I'm now confident with everything within me it's going to be 3, and just like Jesus kicking the stone away from the tomb, I'll be back just like I was before!

But neither happened.

Having cancer means spending most of your time psyching myself up for whatever's next.

Sarah is quick to point out that just because I said I've had two consecutive high energy days doesn't necessarily mean SHE'S enjoyed them.

As we all know,  just because we believe something is true doesn't mean that's actually the case.

According to her I'm forever meandering off into Winnie-the-Pooh's "Three Acre Wood", "Pepperland", "Hyatt Asbury" or inside "Joe's Garage" with Frank Zappa.

I love each of these places!

Sarah? 

Not so much.

I'm "there" and not really "here", miss entire conversations, say things that make no sense and have somehow mastered the art of "making a mess while cleaning up!"

Most of the time though I try to be helpful and useful to Sarah and the girls, which isn't to say that I am, though God knows I believe I'm useful.

"It's hard to believe you aren't doing things on purpose," she sighs as it's apparent I have no idea what she's talking about and feel attacked.

"I'm just trying to talk and understand," she wearily continues.

Sometimes it takes us days of talking to get to the place where we're finally communicating.

Painfully, I learn in a rush the numerous examples of trying to help most often disrupts, slows or erases whatever Sarah trying to accomplish.

Feeling like a kid caught and sent to the Principal's Office, I understand I'm making things harder for my already overwhelmed wonder of a woman.

Eventually, we find the humor and laugh a weary, sad acceptance of our newest reality in our ever changing landscape of what's real.

After School Teaching

When I occasionally attended Groves High School a 1/2 century ago, I actually made it to Mr. Seay's history class from time to time.

He didn't seem to notice winding movie film from one reel through the projector to the other reel. "What we're watching today," he explains, "some of you may find upsetting but, well, it's how it happens."

In horror we watch raw footage recently declassified by the military of the Allied liberation of the Auschwitz Concentration Camp. Bulldozers shoving mountains of naked bodies into mass graves!

Darlene Mixon almost throws up!

I'm mesmerized.

After class I asked if there were more films like this?

It takes him a few minutes to remember who I was but, after checking to see if my name was actually on the roll, he says, "Yes."

"I'd like to see them."

Heretofore I'd never exercised the slightest interest in educational instruction so he was taken aback.

"Okay," he smiles. "I can get them but you'll have to watch them after school. We've already covered this material in class."

A few weeks later, Mr. Seay meets me after school,  personally teaching what happens when discrimination becomes hate and goes unchecked.

A quarter century later on a cold February day, I stand on the frozen grounds of Auschwitz, hands stuffed in pockets trying to keep warm, holding a broken pair of children's scissors I'd found on the ground and think, for a second or two, of Mr. Seay.

Years later I put the whole scene in a book as my way of saying, "Thank you Mr. Seay."

I don't know if he ever read it.

It doesn't matter because my loving appreciation of that defining moment in my life remains.

Today is Mr. Seay's funeral and I'm of the age now when I'd go if I could but, alas, I have issues that prevent me from attending.

But if anyone understands if I skip, it's Mr. Seay.

What I do all day?

"What do you do now?" he asks, standing in the middle of the path through the island's immaculate trail in a forest that reminds me of "the three acre wood" of Winnie-the-Pooh.

"About what?" I deadpan, facing him under the canopy of trees.

He laughs, wiping sweat from his face while smiling in a most beguiling way.

"I mean, what do you do all day?"

"Oh," I smile, "I hang out with my 4 year old daughter."

Che's out of school for the summer, relishes our new house and is grooving on Mom and Dad and, while that works great with my schedule, Sarah's occupied with a full time job, our teenage daughters and managing our dreams and schemes. 

So I mostly hang out with Che with no structured activities, which is where I excel. 

We do everything together, meaning we sit around a lot, cuddling, coming up with things to do, ranging from watching endless hours of "A for Adley" to seeing the sun rise sitting on her swing set.

We play tons of imaginary games, Barbie, build forts, swim, play hide-n-seek, find new playgrounds and sing lots of songs. I like making up new words which drives Che crazy, changing Elsa's "Let it go" to "Let it blow" in Disney's movie "Frozen" which we've seen 287 times.

Sarah spends lots of time with Che too and, whenever they're away, I'm a little lost without them. Don't get me wrong, I find things to do, but most of my energy, which is limited these days, remains focused on my wife and daughters and there's just not much left for much else.

We're hunkered down together, equally amazed at what we've survived and the blessings we have, seeking joy in each moment, daring to make short term plans, and hopeful for time.

Che's taught me not to worry about long term plans. The only thing we should concern ourselves about is "what are we going to do now?" so we make up lots of things we're playing as we go. There's rarely planning, imagination's required as we make realities our of nothing. Magic unicorns appear behind Pine trees. Little girls really can transform into Wonder Woman! Of course we can fly! There's also tons of hugging!

Atop a Castle Tower in a playground, Che asks me to lift her for the fourth time and I sigh. 

Lifting her three times has worn me out and I have to sit for a minute.

"One more time Dad!"

Struggling to stand, I wobble, find my footing and sigh.

"I'm sorry Da," Che cries, her face is crushed.

Summoning my energy, I rush to her, asking with a smile, "What're you sorry for?"

"Making you hurt," she answers with moist eyes.

Swinging my arms around her, laughingly we hug as I throw her to the ground yelling, "Not hurt enough to do this!"

Happily, slowly and painfully, we hold hands, Che talking the entire way about us having a "Battle Royale" as we make our way home.

Sarah asks how things went but as I tell her I see her eyes narrow.

Whatever I just said was unintelligible.

She tells me so and I sigh.

Her phone rings so Sarah dashes away to field a work call while Che and I collapse on the sofa. She watches television while I stream music through ear buds and stare out the windows. 

"Truly I tell you," Jesus said, "unless you change and become as little children you cannot enter the Kingdom of Heaven" and I wonder why this verse pops inside my head.

Maybe it's because I spend so much time with our four year old daughter. 

Perhaps I'm in training for the Kingdom of Heaven and she's my coach.

I don't know.

But I do know that I want to do it again tomorrow.

Hitting Mom In the Face

"Mom, remember when Dad was hitting you in the face, Che asks, laying her head in Sarah's lap.

All of the parents watching 4 year old soccer on the sidelines beside us stop watching the game to stare at us.

"What?" we both exclaim.

"When we all got a gold medal before," she explains, holding the ribbon of her latest trophy.

The team received participation medals from the YMCA for completing first year soccer where the goal is to "RUN THE OTHER WAY!" like the coach repeatedly screams to the team.

We laugh, having no idea what she's talking about.

The other parents nervously laugh with us.

Later, at home, Sarah and Che disappear in the bedroom looking for something and, after a while, I hear laughter.

Sarah wanders out smiling and tosses a round decoration on the table where I sit.

A few years ago, at the Tybee Critz Run, Mother and Daughter were presented medals to the participants and if you study it, you can plainly see Dad hitting Mom in the face,

Savoring Life's Desserts

 

"Can we order dessert first?" the girls ask Sarah.

"Of course," their Mom answers turning the menu over to inspect the offerings on the back.

It's my first introduction to the "culture" I'll eventually marry into, this crazy collection of girls making up our home.

Desserts are ordered and enjoyed before everyone turns their attention to the main entrees.

The girls are grown and the dessert first dinners are mostly a thing of the past though I increasingly love the image it holds for me now.

I'm savoring life's desserts.

The times for major feasts and festivals have drawn to a close.

"I just got the cheapest thing on the menu," I explain to Sarah. "I'm not going to eat it all."

"Get whatever you want," she instructs more than suggests.

I stick with what I now know about my half size stomach.

No desserts are ordered but Sarah's talking to Cassidy who's talking to me while the faces of both are illuminated from the tiny phone screens in their hands.

My phone's on Sarah's other side and I'm happily content being part of being here with them.

Dessert enough!

I've progressed from the "You look great" and the "you sound good" stages of pancreatic cancer to the "you have the greatest outlook and attitude!"

This is what I've learned so far about having cancer.

You can be the funniest person in the entire Universe but if you have stage 4 pancreatic cancer, no body laughs at anything you have to say.

It's probably that there's nothing funny about having cancer so when I laugh, it makes a horrifying situation worse.

I try to be respectful but I'm a "laugh at the funeral" sort of guy anyway!

If I'm going to have cancer then it's going to be on my terms dammit!

At least for as long as I'm going to laugh!

It's all absurd anyway!

Forgotten promises made long ago suddenly reappear as our only hope and Sarah picks up the phone, makes the call into her past and, amid incredible romance, tragedy, hurt and sandy kisses, we find our love.

In the furious crashing of worlds colliding our family is born and, though we're far from finishing blending, we have a love child because she wouldn't be denied, bringing us to just the right amount of flavors for our lives stew in together.

What's not to laugh at?

Other than the fact this parties coming to an end, at least my participation in it, and though we have no clue as to when, everybody's getting ready in their own ways.

I try to have fun with it, amusing myself in things I find humorous and maybe it's the best I can do anymore.

What's mostly been lost for us during the past year of "the curse of cancer" is the time to enjoy being with each other. 

There's always an emergency, one surgery turns into three, recuperations take longer, internal organs sacrificed, eating's a struggle, focus is "iffy" and my energies always depleted. 

Thank God for my wife nursing me through it all juggling ceaseless job demands, growing girls, one of who left for College changing the ingredients of our family stew which takes lots of energy on it's own. This makes it the perfect time to move so, for lots of reasons, Sarah single handedly moves us inside of a week!

We're determined to make better use of the time we have left, however much it is, to laugh more together, explore new things and travel while we can.

We can't do exhaustion anymore.

It's time to savor life's desserts!

There isn't time for anything else.

I read once we easily remember our beginnings, recalling the details joyfully whenever we so desire.  It’s the endings where we fail so miserably, unable to understand things starting to fall apartt and, before we know it, it’s over.

Sarah and I are determined to enjoy everything we possible can, making it the best of a desserts, the grandest of finales, the greatest of love stories.  

Obituary for Winston the Little Gay Dog (TLGD)

Wintson Elliott, affectionally known as Winston the Little Gay Dog (TLGD) died dramatically in his sleep earlier this week leaving behind legions of enthusiastic, grief-stricken, fans all wondering what's going to happen to his astounding tee-shirt collection. 

An early and fierce proponent of LGBT world domination believing the world's a better place if everyone truly has fun with their sexuality. 

"If everybody slept with one another," he was fond of saying, "then we could all be doing to politicians what they've been doing to us!"

Winston TLGD chose Sarah Elliott as his "person" and loved her adoringly. He tolerated the rest of the family often peeing on Micheal's flip-flops before going outside in the mornings.

The little son-of-a-bitch (and I mean that literally) was a fierce tail-blazer among animal sexually identity classification conducting research on each species.

His world renown tee-shirt collection, including his latest colored wife-beaters with the slogans "TSA is my DREAM Job" ... "I would bottom you so hard" ... "Bisexuality doubles your chance of getting a date!" and "I got your balls right here" is being donated to the Center for the Historic Preservation of Gay Animals.

Winston TLGD leaves behind his person, Sarah and whoever happened to be with her at the moment. 

He really didn't care for anybody else except his Uncle Johnny, Sandy Durden, Robin Wheeler and Derrick Hodge who he loved to sleep with.

How does one thank someone who brought so much joy, delight, laughter and "queerness" to our lives? Along with Goddess, Winston TLGD affectionally demonstrated gay and straight dogs completely embrace one another for who they are as butt lovers.

Thank you Winston TLGD.

Prance all over those rainbows and show the Angels they don't know shit about how to dress.

Another Anniversary

Easter is also the anniversary of the day Mom sent my brother David to get me from the woods passed Kerry Scott's house at the end of the street.

Aside from Church, school and eating supper, we spent all of our time in those woods.

Still caught up in the Holy Spirit from Pastor Johnson's fiery Easter sermon, David wore his 3-piece J. C. Penny suit.

I'd already changed for the ride to Sunday Easter lunch at Grandma and Granddaddy Carver's house far away in Pooler.

Wearing shorts and tee shirts, I played with

Rob Mixon

and his brothers.

"MIKE, MOM SAYS TO COME HOME NOW," David yells in his suit.

"OVER HERE!" we scream in reply.

David makes his way to the log straddling the canal to where we hid behind trees.

Just as my brother made his way across the canal on the log, we began throwing rocks at him while screaming "WALK THE PLANK! WALK THE PLANK!"

David fell in the canal but literally walked on the water , running towards home, crying and yelling, "I'M TELLING MOM!"

Robert, his brother Ray and me laughed our asses off.

That's all I remember about that glorious Easter day.

Margaret Elliott

probably encouraged Dad to beat me until an inch of my life.

It doesn't matter because I don't remember.

Happy Easter Bubba!

Love you!!

(The picture shows us pretty much at the time this event occurred on that glorious Easter all those years ago.)

Daybreak

Yesterday Che, our 4 year old daughter, woke before light, climbed down from her raised bed in the dimly lit room, and almost made it down the stairs before calling out in the darkness, "DA! DADDY!"

Jerking awake, I'm on the stairs hugging her before my eyes fully open.

"That's another step in her not needing us anymore," I tell Sarah. "Before long she'll take care of herself."

My wife rolls her eyes and walks away.

Today Che makes it the way down the stairs and creeps to my side of the bed.

I'm dead asleep.

Sarah felt Che enter the room, pause and stare for us through the darkness.

"Come to bed," Sarah calls and our daughter scampers across her mother's belly, collapses between us and wakes me up.

For a moment, it is pure bliss.

"Do you want to get up?" Sarah asks.

Che rolls across my belly, grabs my hand, saying, "C'mon Da," and the day's begun.

The time I've got

"You have too much time on your hands," our 16 year old Laurel says staring at her phone sitting on the sofa next to me.

"Au contraire," I answer, scrolling Twitter, snuggled with Che who's watching YouTube videos, "I don't have enough."  

Laurel grins before making a pouty face. 

"You mean you don't have enough to do TikTok," she fires.

TikTok is an App showcasing personal videos recorded on phones, uploaded for your enjoyment of people sharing life as they see it in one minute or less. Laurel lobbies for me to share my life as a weed smoking, 64 year old father with pancreatic cancer of a 4 year old and a smokin' hot wife who's a wonder of a woman.

"It'll be hilarious," she announces.

I checked TikTok out but told her, "It's too much work. I don't have enough time."

Ever since Laurel tells me I have too much on my hands.

The fact is the matter is I'm quite content with the time I've got.

For the most part I play whatever Che wants so my days are filled with Fairies, Pirates, Ballerinas, coloring books, building forts, musical performances, snuggles, endless games of Hide-n-Seek and trying to decipher new words she speaks with conviction.

Che's a lot like her mother.

Everything she does is with the utmost conviction.

Sarah and I walk the dogs and make plans for our immediate (is there any other kind?) future. We snuggle together every night watching television, have lunch dates, and go to the Doctor's office.

My wife works a lot, mothers four daughters and oversees my recovery while I'm building my ultimate play list so I never have to listen to a song I don't really like again. So far it's over 54 hours of songs but Spodify's repetitive rotation drives me crazy so I keep adding more tunes so the number of repeats goes down.

The rest of the day is filled with unresolved emotions, mostly life and death issues predicated upon Sarah living and me dying.

It's not morose. 

It's liberating somehow, though I don't know how.

"When the two of you laugh," my Mom says, "it's the richest, most heartfelt, sound."

That's what happens when the love of your life doesn't let go during the freefall of cancer and we crash into Hell still holding hands but find ourselves still here so there's nothing else to do except laugh.

It's not just the laughter but the talks we have. The silence we share. The knowing glances when someone else is talking. The warmth of her hand in mine. The love emerging from every cell in our bodies when we hug. Everything about the way we're living now is more abundant than before! 

There's an urgency to our marriage that heightens everything we experience living each moment.

It takes all my time.

Now I can't imagine how I've lived life like I did for so long and not like I am now.

Stormy Seas return

"Da, show me the picture from the Doctors," Che asks, sticking her head between the console as I sit behind the steering wheel.

I'd missed taking her to pre-school because of a MRI that morning so I'm picking her up instead.

"It's not that kind of picture," I laugh. "They look inside my belly. It'll take a while before we can see them."

"Oh," she smiles, sitting backwards.

Buckling my seatbelt, her head reappears between the console.

"Show me," she demands.

"What?" My belly?"

She nods, melting my heart.

Pulling up the tee-shirt, she examines the deep scar, kisses it, says, "That'll make it better," sits back in the seat and begins to sing.

The picture comes back soon enough and Sarah studies them intensely.

As suspected, I still have cancer.

Sizes, shapes and locations have changed.

It's not what we hoped though we're undeterred. 

"I hear there's a diet this guy with a cancer like yours and his spots have all diminished," Sarah says at lunch.

We're discussing options, each from our unique perspective, so we talk without listening, holding emotions in check so we feel in control.

My wife wants to immediately step up the fight, willing to sacrifice anything to keep us together until I walk our little girl down the aisle. 

“Wounded deep in battle, I stand stuffed like some solider undaunted," feeling the time I have rush downriver as I frantically seek joy in every single moment I'm living now!  

We leave to retrieve Che who's excited to have actually seen a Leprechaun in class today and drive home together under towering billows of dark and stormy clouds.