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Coming to terms.
I haven't written much lately.
Up until an hour ago I really couldn't put my finger on the reason or the cause.
You see an hour ago I was waiting in line at Kinkos when I noticed the yellow wristband on the guy behind the counter and my eyes fogged over.
I pretended to yawn. I pretended my eyes were watering. I was crying.
When I got to the car I bawled.
This was the first time I let go since I got off the phone with my brother last month.
The call he made to let me know he has cancer.
Finding out wasn't a complete shock, we talk often so I knew he had to go to the doc to get his "fig" checked. After his initial tests we laughed for a half hour about the finer points of the digital-rectal exam ("You know what I hate? I hate how my doctor lights up a cigarette right after he pulls off his glove!" and "Yeah! And I hate how my doctor puts BOTH of his hands on my shoulders!"). We laughed, no, we giggled because "it" wasn't real. At the time "it" was "waiting for results".
When I got a call a week or so after his exam, I saw the call was from him and answered with a quick, smart-assed, "How's yer nutsack?" he answered, "Bud, I need you to make me laugh... It's cancer." I couldn't answer him. I sure as hell couldn't make him laugh.
Fuck.
At that moment "it" went from "waiting for results" to Fuck.
I haven't laughed a whole bunch since.
Tonight, in my mind anyway, "it" lapsed from Fuck. to real.
Even as we talked about "it" last week. Even as he started radiation treatments, "it" wasn't real.
Tonight it's real.
Tonight I'm coming to terms.
My big brother's name is Len Strozier, and I hurt for him.
12/13/2004 09:07:38 PM
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