A Year Ago
I wake up early this morning, as I have on countless mornings, to the sound of my dad upstairs getting ready to go somewhere. This weekend he's going fishing, and on Monday he's going to the hospital for another stem cell transplant.
I look at the clock. It's almost five, time for him to leave. I get out of bed and go upstairs to give him a hug goodbye. I tell him to have a good trip and a good first few weeks in the hospital because I'm not planning on seeing him till the beginning of July. I'm not looking forward to being away from him when he's sick in the hospital, I hate it. Letting go of him is a little hard this morning, but I don't make a fuss and I go back to bed.
As I lie there I realize I forgot to say "I love you". He already knows though. That's what I say to myself. He knows. My actions show it. I've said it before. There's no point in getting out of bed and going all the way back upstairs to say it. Plus, he'll think I'm being weird. And he's going to be fine in the hospital. This isn't my last chance to say it to him in person. And besides, he already knows. But I can't stop thinking about it.
I hear my door squeak open.
"Becky?" Dad says.
"I forgot to say I love you."
I love you too Dad.