Oh, Dad! I inhaled when he removed his Air Force cap. Tufts of silver and black hair fluffed up in patches on his head while the rest was bald. I looked at him, I mean really looked at him for the first time since he started chemotherapy. He’d lost weight. Which was probably good since his spleen weighed 12 lbs at the time of his diagnosis. His arms, so strong just a few months ago, appeared now to have too much skin to cover their sinewy length. His broad shoulders, which once paraded a little me like a princess up the steps to be tucked into bed were now slumped, no longer able to fill out the polo shirt that covered them. His pants were too big too. The belt made the top of the khaki’s ruffle around his tucked in polo and the bagginess of them made him look more Cirque than Chic. But it was the hair that broke my heart.
“It was falling out anyway so I tried to shave it off myself.” My father admitted, “But I didn’t do a very good job of it.” And he smiled embarrassed, this act endeared him to me more than any I love you could have done in that moment.
“Do you want me to fix it for you?” I asked him, dropping my purse and car keys on the dinning room table and already walking toward the hall closet for the clippers.
“If you don’t have anything better to do…” And I didn’t.
“The doctor said the tumor is shrinking.” He told me. He was now seated on the edge of the bathtub, head poised over the sink.
“That’s great news!” I smiled, allowing my heart to relax a little as I oiled up the clippers “So you and mom will be going to Texas
“I’m not going to get better.” He told me, reaching out and placing a hand on my shoulder. “This isn't that kind of cancer.” Our eyes locked and we were both quiet for a time.
“Well, that sucks.” I finally said. My voice held all the same emotion as if he just announced an expensive car repair bill. He nodded then leaned his head over the sink. I took longer than I needed to shaving his head, blinking back tears but not shedding them. I did this for him, it seemed important to not cry. I watched as silver and black strands of hope collected in the sink basin.
“All done?” He asked when I finally turned off the clippers. His tone said nothing unusual here, just getting a haircut from my daughter.
“Done.” I responded by rote. He didn’t even look in the mirror; he just ran his hand over his scalp and walked out of the bathroom. I knew he did this for me. I turned the water on in the sink without thinking and a heartbeat later wondered why it didn't occur to me to save a lock of his beautiful silver and black hair. I took my time cleaning up the clippers and putting them away.
When I came out I smiled up at him and appraised my work. “Looks good.” I told him. Nope…nothing unusual here, Dad.
“Yeah?” He didn’t really ask, but I nodded anyway. “Good.”
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