Every beginning has an ending

With every new start comes the end of something else. We start college, leaving our high school life behind. We go off to school, leaving our best friends behind. We start a new job, leaving our former job behind. We start on a new life, and watch another life die. I'm not sure how to feel right now. It's like with every step forward I take, I get knocked back a step (sometimes two). In some ways it's small. I attempted to buy a desk & chair at Ikea on Monday, but due to the missing 2nd box for my desk, I left without my intended purchases. I returned tonight, getting in with minutes to spare, only to later realize I bought the wrong color desk. I have to go back tomorrow morning and get the correct desk. I have the chair though. I'm sitting in it. It's quite comfortable. Fake leather. I'm quite happy with this purchase. I may not have a desk, but I do have a nice chair. Sadly,even if I had the desk, I wouldn't be happy right now. I've been consumed by bad news and the potential result of this news. Now matter how many years I have had to prepare for this, I feel so unprepared. I felt this when I was 17-yrs-old for the first time. It was worse in August of 2004. Now I just feel numb. I think this is the worst feeling. Before it was a matter of fearing what could happen. This time I'm left to wait for what will happen.

I'm being vague, I know. it's just that this is not an easy topic for me right now. A few days ago, my mom told me that our family doctor thinks my dad may have pancreatic cancer. His health is so poor that, if this is the case, operating would be pointless. It's still not confirmed, but our doctor thinks it's quite probable. If so, he may have between 3 & 12 months to live. If it is pancreatic cancer, do we tell my dad he has a terminal illness? Nothing can be done. Do we let him live with the fear of death for his last days? How do you tell someone they are going to die and you can't do anything. It's not that my dad doesn't realize that he is ill. Since his scatter stroke in August of 2004, he has not been the same. But he survived. He came home. Now I feel like I should preparing to say goodbye. Fuck! I'm almost 30-yrs-old and I'm about to say goodbye to my father. Maybe I should feel lucky that I have had him around this long. In fact, I do. He lived long enough to see me graduate college. He's seen me pick up the pieces of my life and start over with direction (finally). It just hurts to think that he won't be there to see me married. He won't be around when I have kids of my own. Hell, he may not even be around when I turn 30 in less than four months. I feel helpless. I hate time. Fuck! I can't do this right now.

-Sergei xo