after 3 months of his struggle with cancer, i confronted my father.
"tough. you think you've got the stuff? you're telling me and anyone else you're hard enough. you think you can make it on your on own. but that' just it Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own. let me take some of the punches for you tonight. listen to me now!" i said.
father stood up and said "alright Scorpius, i'll listen to you... this time."
"we fight all the time, and that's alright. you and i are the same." i said, "you don't have to put up a fight dad. you don't have to always be right."
"alright son, i've given you your 15 minutes. i have to go to work." said father as he put on his jacket and grabbed his cane.
"Dad, i need to let you know something!" i shouted before he left.
"what is it son." he said reluctantly.
"you don't have to go it alone." i said sincerely, "i can help you if you let me."
"what do you want son." said father as he turned to me.
"your the reason i sing, your the reason i have my guitar." i said.
ya see, i'd had interest in music most of my life. and father would spent late nights with my mother when was alive playing music.
he'd play cello while she played piano.
they enjoyed it so much, it was such an intamacy to them.
when i learned guitar they brought me in on it. it then became just as intimate.
when mother passed away because of cancer too, he and i became distant. i still played my guitar, but father rarely took his bow.
"there is no other reason why i play." i finished.
father sighed and said, "son, i know what your saying. and i love you, but the thing is i'm done."
"what do you mean?" i asked him concerned.
"i went to the doctor today, he told me it was too late for chemotherapy now. i'm going to die." i said.
"what?" i shouted.
"come along son. grab you guitar and call Juliette, we're going to play again." he said with a smile, opening his palm for me to come with him.
i took his hand and walked out to the common room.