Dear Diary
My father was diagnosed with terminal cancer when I was only nine. My mother, brother and I were understandably devastated. Dad started his treatment but it made him sick and moody and coping with imminent death understandably took its toll. My brother and I didn’t have to deal with the small things, Mum was the one who had to care for Dad on a daily basis. Death was the fifth person at the dining table and in the car, at the cinema and at any ‘happy’ occasion lingering around us spoiling everything we did.
As my brother and I left to go to university and moved on with our lives Dad kept his treatment up and advances in medicine meant he lived almost 30 years until the cancer finally overcame him and Death took him away. My beautiful Mum gave up her entire youth and middle age caring for her husband 24 hours a day and after the grief she sighed with relief. This is the point she got her life and soul back and started going out with friends and took up drawing. As a family we let it consume us but would we do anything differently if the clock turned back?
Anon
