Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Cancer is Everywhere Or My Dad is Dying.
These days I am at my Aunt's house in Northern California. She knows that my Dad is struggling with Cancer. It is now more than 2 years he has been dealing with Cancer: Chemotherapy, Surgeries, ... . It is painful process not only for the afflicted but for all their family and friends.
Moreover, My aunt knows I have not been talking to my parents for more than a year now.
Until today I thought my Dad's cancer is only local, near his kidneys, but my aunt revealed, in the most casual manners, that cancer has metastasized to most parts of my Dad's body.
[For the Record: I never call my father Dad;I always call him Baba. Seems the best word in English is Dad.]
Well, with this new revelation just a few minutes ago, I am now under a lot of pressure, I guess. I have no intention to call my Dad because I do not like him, or my mother. Now, if an Iranian ever says they do not like their parents, that said Iranian has committed the gravest sins in the eyes of the rest of Iranians. But,to hell with it. I do not like my parents as they created me and made me hate myself and everything around me. I can hide my hatred toward them but I cannot get rid of it unless I am ridden with in the first place.
By the way, What is the number of unqualified parents out there?!
My Aunt has been telling me in all certain terms that I am a selfish asshole for not wanting to call my Dad who is dying. All I can do when she is yelling at me is to be silent, except for occasional retorts that "You do not know my parents." But, it is to no avail. My aunt obviously knows everything about the responsibilities of parents and kids, and i need to be reminded that as soon as a person gets into a death bed, all their history is to be forgotten.
My Parents and Siblings live in Tehran, Iran. And since six years ago that I left Iran for USA, I have not traveled back as I simply cannot.
Right now, I cannot think of anything else, but, there is a 50-50 chance that I may call Iran to talk to my dying Dad.
In other news, I think distance accentuates hatred.
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Don't waste this golden opportunity to phone and spill your bile to your dying father (and your mother, too). I feel very good about phoning my dad and telling him everything I had pent up inside for years. After telling me sharply never to disrespect him like that again, he hung up on me. I phoned back and told him he could never make up for or be forgiven for the years of indifference, hypocrisy and judging. My siblings learned about the call; horrified, they still aren't talking to me. Fine. It just goes to prove they inherited the asshole gene. I must have it, too, but at least I feel good about finally clearing the air. I'll be at peace.
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