Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
CHAPTER 25
Deacon
HINDSIGHT IS TWENTY-TWENTY
Since arriving in Minnesota, I’d avoided being alone with my father. I’d gone over to my parents’ for dinner but left before Dad had a chance to corner me. He hadn’t said anything hurtful yet, but I dreaded encountering the version of him I remembered—the one who did nothing but criticize me. I didn’t need him making me feel inadequate when I already felt pretty damn shitty since leaving Carys the way I did.
It appeared I could only hide for so long, though. I was shoveling snow outside my grandmother’s house one day when I looked up to see my Dad’s red truck.
Sticking the shovel into the snow, I leaned on it as I watched him approach. He reached over to brush some snow off my coat, and I felt my eyes widen. It was rare my father touched me. Aside from the brief hug I’d given him when I first arrived here, there had been no other contact—no handshakes or pats on the back.
I stepped back. “What’s up, Dad?”
“I figured you weren’t going to come see me anytime soon, so I’d better find you.”
“Yeah. I’ve been pretty busy helping Gram around here.”
He looked down at the long path I’d cleared. “I can see that.”
I resumed digging. “How’s Mom?”
Cold air billowed from Dad’s mouth. “She’s good. She wishes you’d come by more.”
My shovel scraped against the concrete. “I’ll have to visit soon.”
“Anyway…” he said. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”
Here it is. I was about to be lectured about throwing my life away and squandering my potential by continuing to work in a field where my income was limited. Somehow he’d figure out a way to tie in my past mistakes, and I’d regret ever coming home. This was precisely what I’d been avoiding like the plague since I’d gotten here.
“So, a few weeks back, I noticed some blood in my semen,” he began.
What?
“I had some tests done, and it turns out I have prostate cancer.”
I froze, hanging on to the shovel for balance. I finally made eye contact with him. “Cancer?”
“I have to start radiation. They think it’s small enough that they can treat it, but it’s not exactly at the earliest stage. It’s stage Two B, so the doctor’s recommendation is treating it aggressively. But the prognosis is good.”
It felt like the world around me was spinning. My father had always been the epitome of health and strength. If this could happen to him, it could happen to anyone.
“Does Alex know?”
“He does, but I specifically asked him not to mention anything. I wanted to be the one to tell you. I kept waiting for you to show up at the house, and you never did. So I needed to tell you before I start treatment in a couple of days.”
A couple of days?
I sucked in a large dose of frosty air. “I’m sorry, Dad. Obviously if I had known I—”
“I know.” He looked up at the sky, then back at me. “Look…I know things have not been the best between us for a long time—too long. I take full blame for that. No matter how disappointed I may have been with how things turned out, you’re still my son. I should’ve put you before my feelings. This whole cancer thing has forced me to reflect on my life, and unfortunately, I’m seeing more mistakes than I can count.”
The blame wasn’t all his. “I ran away. You can’t work on a relationship with someone who’s not there. It’s not all your fault. I made it nearly impossible.”
“For a long time, I didn’t feel there was anything more important in life than my career—than football. There’s nothing like facing your mortality to make you realize that’s bullshit.”
Things were getting pretty surreal. “Hindsight is twenty-twenty, I guess.”
Dad stared down at his boots and kicked at the snow. “I should’ve paid more attention to your pain after the accident,” he said, looking up at me again. “I shouldn’t have been caught up in what it meant for me. I’d only ever dreamed of you making it to the NFL. All I wanted was for you to be successful. I was devastated and didn’t know how to handle it. So I shut down, and I screwed up by staying silent all these years. You probably assumed I was disappointed in you, but as the years passed, the only one I’ve been disappointed in is myself.”
While it was validating to hear him say that, this was no time for him to be feeling guilty.
“It’s okay, Dad. I don’t want you worrying about all that right now. It’s in the past. You need to focus on the present and getting better. Stress can do a lot of harm.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t realize then that success can’t be measured by accolades or money. Because when you die, you can’t take those things with you. In the end, all I have is my family. I need to work on mending those relationships, not only with you, but with your mother and brother. But especially with you.”