Some days...
I think it's all a dream.
A bad dream,
a long dream;
One of those sweaty kind of dreams.
I call out for you,
and you're not there.
I dial your number...
But you will never be there.
Never again...
To answer,
to offer advise;
Or to just tell me you love me,
One more time.
I ponder the roads you traveled,
the judgments I made,
the anger I felt,
and I am SO SORRY,
DAD...
It's hard to know,
hard to weigh,
hard to feel...
Until the burden is yours.
Tomorrow marks
my second year of life
with Diabetes,
and I truly wish you were here...
I wish I could say everything is so much better,
and in many ways it is.
New insulin,
new technologies,
new hope for all...
But always we must watch now,
for miracle cure hawkers galore.
Dad, how I wish...
People understood.
How dangerous
Type 2 Diabetes is,
and that it has NO CURE.
We must fight,
every day...
For tight control,
for proper medical care,
for enough test strips,
for medicines and insulin...
But still, every day,
someone's pretending
we could easily 'reverse' this...
Like the bad numbers,
are somehow,
not one slice of pizza away.
It takes nerves of steal,
and iron will,
to keep away...
from those cupcakes.
Carbohydrates are everywhere,
in everything,
even in medicine,
even in flu shots...
This is not a race,
a sprint,
or a short pass at the gym...
It's a marathon...
A long,
and never ending...
Marathon.
Dear Dad...
I know you worked hard,
I know you measured,
Tested,
and took your shots...
I know you had a lot of will...
Determination,
Strength of character,
and yes,
sometimes depression.
I pray that,
on this new year...
I can climb that ladder...
YOUR ladder,
and continue the fight,
Your fight, Our fight,
For you... For me,
and for everyone.
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