Life, Death and Points of View

Eighteen years ago, I came into a world of love. I was the second child, and the first male grandchild, who was spoilt rotten by my entire family. Although my parents were not married, they were young, and had good intentions for their new baby. I grew up secure in the knowledge that I was loved, and confident that my world was near perfect. I was the center of a world, from what I could see from such a young age. This state of innocence continued throughout my early teens. However, this changed dramatically in the winter of my last year in college. I was told my father was dying of cancer.

The moment I was told the bad news, I had to confront my emotions and issues. That only adults usually face. This changed my view of the world and my sense of responsibility, as my father was ill. However, I did not have enough time to fully understand my father's illness. As he decided to only tell me when the cancer had developed beyond treatment. This meant our relationship roles were suddenly reversed. Where I had once been the second of two children, I was now the parent to a child, with a possible incurable disease.

By the summer of the following year, I had restructured my entire life. As my father's illness progressed, he became increasingly incapacitated and depended on me a great deal.

Each morning before I went to college, I would take him to the hospital. There he received chemotherapy to treat the cancer, that was destroying his body. After college, I rushed home to complete my homework, and so that I could make a start, on all of the household chores. I cooked meals, cleaned up, and give my father his medications. I would then go to my part-time job at the supermarket until late evening. I came home each night after midnight, yet the fatigue, hardly touched me. As I was no longer seeing through my own eyes, but through my father's. I felt his pain when he was too sick to get out of bed. And I hurt for him when people stared at his bald head, a result of...