Time Is of the Essence.
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Time is man-made and capricious, passing when we are content and inevitably tedious when bored. Growing up, I hadnt had a concrete notion of the word time. I did things accordingly, or spontaneously; I never had to think about it.
I remember sitting in the back of my dads Cadillac as we pulled into the parking lot of our apartments. There was this expression on his face, different from his usual stolid one that made my sister and I exchange looks. We knew something was different. I tapped him on his shoulder and his eyes closed briefly.
“We just found out your Aunt Meyshas got stage four cancer.” He finally spoke after a few moments of silence. A lump formed in my throat as I tried to swallow down what hed just said.” Im going out to Atlanta this weekend to help move her back out here. Ill have your cousin Roe stay with you guys.”
My sister and I entered the house behind my father. His generally tall and proud stance was sluggish and tired. The rest of the night as expected was silent; tension thick in the air. I wasnt sure how to react to the news, but my mind was swarming with questions. What could I say? What could I do to comfort my dad?
The next morning my sister Tess and I had the idea to make him breakfast in bed. There was this small smile that graced his face at the sight of food. We knew there was nothing we could do to mend his heart right then, but we would try. “Thank you girls, I love you.”
Weeks, then months had passed since wed heard the news. We visited my aunt in the hospital frequently and at my grandfathers house when she was better. It seemed crazy to me how I hadnt spoken to my aunt three years prior to her diagnosis, and in just a couple of weeks, shed become my every other thought.
I talked with her about everything from my troubles in school to my love life whenever I saw her. Each time we spoke I began to notice how lovely she was. It started to make me nauseous when I thought about how she was suffering from cancer.
I prayed in my bed for her when I was alone in my room at night. “Lord, I dont ask for much, but right now my Aunt is fighting through stage four cancer and we really need your blessing. Her brothers need your blessing, her father, her kids, and her nieces.”
In July 2016 I got a phone call from my dad telling my sister and me to get dressed. I groaned, not wanting to go anywhere that day but obliged anyway. My two older cousins were in the car to pick us up when I came downstairs. I rode silently but curiously in the car. There were loads of people outside on the lawn when we arrived at their house. My dad spotted us getting out of the car and ushered us inside of a room.
His dark, glossy eyes alarmed me. I tried not to overthink,