Happily Letter After(36)
“Sure. I think I managed to salvage some of my brain that didn’t get fried during my date tonight. I’ll be happy to offer up what’s left.”
I chuckled. “Okay. I appreciate that.”
She took a sip of her tea, then said, “What’s up?”
I rested my chin on my wrist. “I know you said your mother died when you were six and a half, just like Birdie. Looking back at your childhood with just a father and no mother, what, if anything, do you wish your dad had done differently?”
She nodded a few times and pondered that. “That’s an interesting question. I can see why you’d be curious about that, given you’re in the same situation.”
“Well, you have the rare gift of hindsight. I’m just trying to prevent making any mistakes along the way that might be avoidable. Birdie is still so young. I can’t imagine what things will be like when she gets into her teen years. If there’s a way to plan ahead . . .”
Her eyes moved from side to side. She looked like she was struggling to come up with an answer that would satisfy me. “There’s really nothing specific I can say I’d change when it comes to how my dad handled anything with me. I was always very conscious of the fact that my dad was doing the very best he could. What more could I have asked for? But what parents fail to understand sometimes . . . is just how much kids can see through them. I could always tell if my dad was depressed, even if he was trying to hide it from me. I really wish he had taken more time for himself and not worried so much about how things might affect me. Us daughters . . . we’re tougher than you think. And in the end, we really want to see our dads happy. Because that makes us happy.”
“Yeah,” I whispered. “Okay. Fair enough.”
They say people come into your life for a reason. Maybe Sadie and I were meant to meet because her personal experience mirrored ours. I’d never encountered anyone who quite understood our situation like she did. Talking to her definitely brought me a lot of comfort, made me feel less alone. That was a first since Amanda died.
“Birdie knows how hard you try and how much you love her. And she can also sense when you’re down.”
“I’m starting to realize that more and more.”
Sadie flashed a sympathetic smile. “When my dad was diagnosed with cancer, I—”
“Wait . . . your father had cancer, too?” I hadn’t meant to interrupt her. But that was pretty shocking to hear.
“Yeah. My dad was diagnosed with colon cancer when I was a teenager. Can you believe that? He’s in remission now, thank God.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “I can’t imagine how scary that must have been for you . . . and for him.”
“It really was. It tested my faith big-time. I didn’t understand how that could be happening to me twice. But I tried my best not to dwell on the woe is me aspect. He needed every bit of strength I had to help him get through it, not only mentally but physically. So the self-pity had to wait. It was a few years of touch and go. When he finally did make it through, I, of course, felt like I dodged a bullet. And it’s made me even more grateful for him.”
Her attitude blew me away. “Wow. You were really surrounded by cancer growing up.”
“I was. So much so that at one point, I went and got genetic testing done because I was certain I was destined to have it, too. Which is absurd.”
“I don’t think it’s so strange. A lot of cancers are genetic. Sounds like you made a mature decision to get tested.”
“Umm. Did I mention that I’m adopted?” She laughed. “I understood that I didn’t have the same genes as my mom and dad. Yet I was convinced that I had it, too. Still think it’s not so strange?”
I smiled. “Alright. So I guess that does change things a bit.”
“Yeah. My mom couldn’t have children. She was diagnosed with ovarian cancer the first time at twenty-three. They tried for years after she went into remission, but the chemo did a lot of damage.”
“It’s amazing . . . how your situation mirrors ours. My wife and I struggled to get pregnant as well and went the route of getting fertility help.”
“Oh wow. That’s crazy. But I guess that’s another reason why Birdie and I connected so easily. We’re both extra special because our parents had to work that much harder to have us.”
I smiled. “Anyway, I’m sorry if I got us off on a depressing tangent there for a little while. But I really appreciate the insight. It’s been four years since Amanda died, but the solo-parenting thing still feels like uncharted territory every single day.”
I closed my eyes for a moment, contemplating what my life had become. Then I opened them and spoke in somewhat of a daze. “You spend your youth trying to make something of yourself, feeling invincible, running on adrenaline. Finally fall into a career, have a family . . . everything’s perfect, right? Then, when something like cancer enters the picture when your life has barely even started, it knocks the wind out of you. But it’s too much to fathom. The only way I handled her being sick was to pretend it wasn’t happening. Telling myself and her that everything was going to be fine. You go through the motions of each day, trying to be strong for everyone. It’s like a constant state of numbness. And it has to be. Because feeling what was happening wasn’t an option. Even when she died, I was still numb. It doesn’t hit you, really, until some random time. You know, long after the people stop coming over and bringing food. I woke up one random morning. The TODAY show was on. It was just a regular morning for most. But that was the day it just hit me that my life as I knew it was really over. Or at least it felt that way. But it really couldn’t be over, right? Because I had to keep going somehow . . . for Birdie. So you start to push again, building a new life from the ground up, still trying not to really feel anything too much, because that might throw your progress off track.” I rubbed my eyes and sighed. “Anyway, it’s a strange existence sometimes.”