A Love to Live For (7 page)

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

I grinned. “Dad, you’re making me feel like I’m still a child.”

“You’re still my child.”

“Then again, I don’t remember you talking to me like this when I was a child. I wasn’t Daddy’s girl, after all.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I was more of Mommy’s little girl, remember?” I smiled as I remembered how my mother and I had once dressed up in dresses made from the same fabric, hers without any sleeves and buttons down the front and mine with short, puffy sleeves and buttons down the back, both with a pocket on the right side and a bow on the left. I had been so happy back then to wear something that was almost the same as what she was wearing, even though I didn’t particularly like wearing dresses at the time, making me feel as if I was just like her.

I suddenly missed her, not just her enchanting smile, her contagious laughter and her delicious food, but simply her presence, and of course, her words of advice, which I needed sorely at the moment. She had been not just my mother, after all, but my best friend.

“Well, you and your Mom sure were tight,” my Dad agreed, the tinge of sadness in his voice letting me know that he had also suddenly remembered Mom. “But all three of you have always been my girls and that’s especially true now that your Mom isn’t here with us anymore.”

I nodded as I soaped a glass with the sponge in my hand, swallowing the lump that had suddenly formed in my throat at the memory of my mother. She was gone now, after all. She had been for the past nine years and all I could do was draw strength from my memories of her.

“Dad?”

“Yes?”

“If Mom didn’t die in an accident,” I spoke slowly. “Let’s say she was dying of an illness, but then she didn’t want to undergo any treatment. How would you have felt?”

“I would have felt sad, of course,” he answered after a small pause. “I wouldn’t want to lose her. I’d probably feel angry, too, and try to convince her to undergo treatment, but if she really didn’t want to, I would have respected her decision and supported her wholeheartedly, without any resentment.”

“So you’re saying her decision would have been right?” I asked, not believing what I had just heard, especially from a preacher. Wasn’t he supposed to say that he would keep convincing my Mom to undergo treatment because it was a sin against God to throw one’s life away?

“I’m not saying refusing medical treatment is right, especially if you can afford it and if there is a big chance it will work,” my Dad explained. “But if your Mom was already suffering, not just physically but also emotionally, and if the treatment would only prolong that suffering and not, in fact, cure her, then I would have gladly allowed her to live the rest of her days the way she wanted to.”

“But what if there was still a chance she could be cured?”

He paused thoughtfully. “All medical treatments have a chance of alleviating suffering and a chance of failing. Whether or not a person wants to take that chance is up to him or her.”

“So you’re saying you would have just allowed Mom to die slowly and peacefully, even though there was a chance she could still live?”

“If that is what she chose, yes,” my Dad answered. “Though if she had, she would have chosen it for the sake of those she loved and not for her own.”

“But if you love someone, wouldn’t you want to be with that person for as long as you can?”

“Rebecca, you do not understand. Put yourself in the shoes of a dying person for a moment. If you were dying, would you want the people you love to see you withering on a hospital bed or would you want them to see you happy tending plants in your garden or walking with your dogs? Would you want to burden them with your own suffering?”

I said nothing, though I was beginning to understand his point.

“You may think that refusing medical treatment is selfish, but it may be one of the most selfless acts of all,” my father added. “On the other hand, if you insist that someone you love undergo medical treatment, ignoring his or her own wishes, then it is you who is being selfish because the reason you want that person to live is so you won’t suffer, so you won’t be left alone.”

“But isn’t giving up on life the same as throwing it away?” I asked, bringing up my final argument. “I thought throwing your life away was against God’s wishes.”

“It is, but refusing medical treatment isn’t throwing your life away,” my Dad said. “When you throw your life away or commit suicide, to speak plainly, you wish for death. In refusing medical treatment, you do not wish for death. Rather, you are simply accepting your fate and placing yourself in God’s hands.”

The words sounded similar to what Joseph had said, making me frown as I understood now what he had been trying to say, what I had been refusing to listen to.

“It seems I have only troubled you more,” my Dad said.

I shook my head. “If anyone has been causing me troubles, it’s just me. I should have paid more attention, opened my mind more.”

“Well, everyone makes mistakes,” my Dad said with a comforting smile. “What matters is what we do about them. If we learn something good from them, then they can become important lessons.”

At those words, I turned to my Dad and smiled. It was just a weak smile but already, I knew I was feeling better. Perhaps my frustration had mostly been stemming from myself, from my inability to understand Joseph’s decision, and now that I did, thanks to my Dad, that frustration was slowly evaporating, and the fog that had been in my mind, keeping me from thinking rationally, was beginning to lift.

I knew now what I had to do.

The next day, I woke up early to make a drawing for Joseph, one of the most popular Marvel superheroes that I hoped he still liked, which would be one of the tokens of my apology. The others would be some brownie muffins which I would bake myself and some purple hyacinths, which I read were excellent apology flowers, provided I could get some, of course.

Bridget, who was at the flower shop since she had insisted on Joseph taking the day off and resting, was actually not too keen on seeing me after what had happened yesterday, and not too keen on me seeing Joseph either but after I explained to her that I intended to apologize and make up with him, she gave me a few stems of purple hyacinths at a discount, telling me that they were the perfect choice just as I had thought.

With all my three tokens of apology, I went to Joseph’s house. Like Bridget, he did not seem happy to see me and was about to go back into the house, in fact, when I grabbed his arm.

“I came to apologize,” I told him quickly before I could lose my chance. “I was selfish, trying to force what I believed was right on you and placing my feelings above your own, and I’m really sorry. I’m sorry, too, that I brought someone else into the picture. I promise that I will never bring up the subject again. In fact, I won’t ever talk about your condition again, unless you start, not to you or anyone else.”

He looked at me, as if silently debating whether or not to forgive me. Then, finally, after a few seconds, he smiled, flooding me with relief.

“I’m sorry, too,” he said. “I said some harsh words of my own.”

“It’s okay,” I told him. “I probably deserved to hear them.”

There was a moment of silence, though this was not as heavy as the first, probably just a result of the awkwardness we felt since it seemed as if we were seeing each other again for the first time.

“So am I forgiven?” I asked, choosing to break the silence.

“Hmm…” He scratched his chin. “I guess…”

“Wait, before you forgive me, here.” I handed him the flowers, muffins and the envelope that contained my drawing. “Purple hyacinths since I learned that they symbolize asking for one’s forgiveness, brownie muffins that I baked myself and a drawing that I made this morning. I’m not really used to drawing superheroes but I think it turned out quite nice anyway.”

He pulled the drawing out of the envelope and smiled.

“So am I forgiven?” I repeated my question.

He chuckled. “After receiving these tokens of apology, I think I have no choice but to forgive you.”

I smiled.

“Well, come in. Why don’t we eat these muffins together?”

“But I brought them for you,” I reasoned even as I followed him inside the house.

“So? When you bring a bottle of wine, there’s nothing wrong about drinking it together with the person you gave it to. Why should eating muffins be different?”

I shrugged. “Well, I guess you have a point.”

“Besides, I know you still have the sweet tooth.”

I chuckled.

He left me in the living room then came back with the muffins served on a large plate.

“So, how are you feeling today?” I asked as he sat beside me. “Wait, I’m allowed to ask that question, right?”

He grinned. “Sure. And yes, I feel fine today. I was actually telling Bridget I was going to the shop with her but she insisted I stay home, and you know Bridg, you can never win an argument against her.”

“I guess the two of you are alike in that manner,” I joked. “No offense meant.”

“None taken,” he said as he bit into a muffin. “This is seriously good.”

“I’m glad you like it,” I said.

He took another bite and I, too, took a muffin and started eating.

“Can I just ask you a question?” he asked.

“Sure.”

“Why were you so bothered about me not undergoing treatment?”

“I…I guess I just thought I wanted you to live. If there was a chance for my Mom to live, I knew I would have wanted her to take it, but of course, I realize now how selfish that way of thinking is.”

“Oh,” he said. “And here I thought you wanted me to live because you’d fallen in love with me already.”

I nudged him on the shoulder. “You are so full of yourself.”

He just laughed.

“Can I ask you a question, too?”

“Sure.”

“I mean, since you started talking about it. I’m just curious. How does it feel to know that your life is coming to an end? Where do you get the courage to face that?”

“Those are two questions,” he said, grinning. Then, his expression turned serious. “When I first heard the doctor tell me that I didn’t have long to live, I felt as if my world stopped. I was upset, of course, to say the least, but when I saw how much more upset my sister was and yet how hard she was trying not to show it, how hard she was trying to be brave, I told myself that I would be strong, too. If I had only a short time to live, then I don’t want to spend it being upset or being a burden to others. I want to spend it as peacefully and as happily as possible, and spend it making others happy instead of making them worry, to make the most of it while it lasts.”

I nodded.

“It’s funny, but I don’t think I’ve ever really started living until I learned I was dying.”

I placed my hand over his, squeezing it as I looked into his eyes, which were gleaming with strength and sadness at the same time. Then, I smiled at him.

“Alright, that’s enough on this topic,” I said as I took another bite from my muffin. “You’re going to make me cry.”

He smiled.

“So are you going to the high school reunion?” I asked him, changing the topic.

“I was thinking it wouldn’t hurt to go,” he said. “I mean, I’m not really fond of social get-togethers and stuff like that but I think I’ll manage.”