On Tuesday night, my mother asked me to go to Wawa (a convenience store/deli just across the street from our house) to get some cheese and bread. My father, who spends most of his day sleeping, was hungry enough to eat, and wanted a grilled cheese.
Over I went, to discover only that Wawa was out of American cheese. I came back to the house, empty-handed, and informed Ma. She almost cried. “He’s finally ready to eat something and I can’t even make him a fucking grilled cheese.” I assured her that everything was okay, and that I was only back in the house to grab car keys and head to the grocery store. I went, and returned, and to the best of my knowledge, my father ate a single grilled cheese, which might have been his first food in several days.
Before I was born, my dad was 6′4″ tall and weighed roughly 190 pounds. He then got into an accident, falling from a barn roof, and was abruptly 6′3″ tall. Age and lifestyle have taxed another inch or so from him. Over the past 5 years, various illnesses have also taxed his weight. I don’t know exactly how much he weighs now–he lies to my mother, and says he still weighs 180 pounds. I wouldn’t estimate he weighs more than 150 or 160 pounds. The bones in his arms are visible, and he has that coat-hanger look to him, as though everything he puts on is too large, meant for someone else. Even his skin is loose and sallow, like weird, pale rags on reed-thin bones. And yet, his face is still so round his jawline is barely visible, and the creases from his wrinkles are mostly gone.
Katie’s mom offered to help with Thanksgiving. For more than the past 15 years, my extended family has ventured to our house for Thanksgiving, where my father and mother would create an outstanding meal for a vast number of people. The fewest we ever had were 18, and the most family to attend Thanksgiving at our modest home were over 30. It was crowded, and loud.
Well, now that Dad is sick enough that he sleeps most of the day, and his treatment–chemotherapy and radiation–has taken his appetite, Thanksgiving has been moved to my cousin’s house. My parents, at least, won’t be attending. Katie’s mom invited my family for dinner, or, if my mom preferred, the turkey would be cooked and delivered to our home by Katie’s family.
I passed the offer on to my mom today. I’m sure she’ll talk about it with Dad tonight. I’m equally confident they will decline the offer. Dad’s getting treatment two days before Thanksgiving, and it would seem foolish to get help for a meal that my father cannot eat.
