Writing for myself; hoping for sanity, redemption, and mercy. Using the letters on the keyboard as little life preservers.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
I called mom today and dad answered the phone. I got choked up when I heard his voice. I haven't spoken with him since I was diagnosed. I knew I would cry. I want him to hug me and make it all better. He told me that I managed to get him to do something he's not done before. "What's that?", I ask. "Offer up small prayers", he says. And I cry some more.