Ten Years Ago-Age Eighteen
Less than a month into the first semester of college and it was possible I might have to drop out. I watched the leaves just beginning to change from my bedroom window. A beautiful death in yellow and orange and red. Some were starting to fall already, as if a prelude to the news we'd received today.
He had cancer. My dear, sweet Daddy. Daddy who had never done anything wrong in his entire life except smoke those damn cigarettes. He'd quit, for me, two years ago, but it hadn't been soon enough. The habit had caught up with him. The coughing and shortness of breath wasn't just a cold. It was cancer. The doctors claimed they could try aggressive treatments and removing the mass on his lung, but they gave us no false hope or promises. It was looking grim. Stage 4 was bad.