The lump in his throat has become the cause for the lump of tears in mine. Family history? No. Smoking, drinking? No and no. Yet that demon chose to reveal its ugly presence in the first man who could ever love me. It had taken him from a once strong, stern voiced, red beard, cool walking Pops to a broken, afraid and frail man. He was not someone I recognized or wanted to become familiar with. All images of him in this limp and sick state I blocked from my mind. But with blocking the images I would at times block his feelings and concerns. Blocking myself from dealing with the reality that this situation is beyond our control. The dynamic duo who never let anyone or anything tell us a belief contrary to our own. We were struggling. Struggling to see eye to eye. You were struggling to believe that God would see you through and I struggled to convince you of the same. Faith had been tested and limits had been pushed. Talk of giving up but actions that did not follow, thankfully. I distanced myself from you afraid to see you bend and you were hurt. Asking questions like ” I thought you would visit?” I know what I said and I came once and that was enough because I stared into your sunken eyes and outlined your slim jawline with mine. I saw the same concern and fear that trickled within my conscious each night when I prayed for you. For your wife, my mother, for our family. And that fear pumped deep within you ten times stronger than I could ever imagine. Because this was your fight, no it was ours! No this is not a battle that we asked to partake in but here we are. Staring the possibility of death in its grim and ugly face. It will not win because you are still fighting. We are still fighting. Perhaps an easier fight this time but God willing, we will win.