My father has cancer...again. That's not something I really enjoy saying. He is a man I have only seen twice in my entire life but he is half the reason I even exist. The relationship I have had with my father has clearly been minimal despite the fact that I have known his mother and step-father since I was a child.

I learned about my father at a relatively young age (9 or so if I'm remembering correctly). Up to that point, it was just normal for me that I didn't have a dad. I didn't have a lack of father figures though: I grew up in my grandparents' house, my grandfather provided the fatherly role and my uncles were, and continue to be, essentially older brothers. Then at age four, when my mom married my "step-father", from that point on I had a Dad. 

When I found out I had a father, it was more of a "well that's neat" kind of revelation. I've never felt that absence or yearning that comes for some people who have never met a parent. I attribute that to the fact that my whole life up to that point was filled with father figures who more than exceeded that need (and continue to do so I might add).

Still, knowing your father, regardless of when he comes into your life, is a good thing. For my 21st birthday, my parents gave me a roundtrip airfare to see my family in Maine (I was living in Louisiana at the time). There was one condition: I had to actually meet my father. That made the whole "I have a father" concept REALLY real. I agreed (and glad I did as it was one of the last times I saw my grandmother) and midway through the trip I met him. Talk about surreal: I was looking at a mirror-image of myself, plus or minus 20 years. There was a flood of emotions that came over me: joy, confusion, curiosity. It , was wild to sit and talk to him, learn about his family (I instantly gained another brother and sister) and just take in the fact I was actually talking to the other person who brought me into this world.

We met up once more that was slightly tinged (his wife objected to my grandparents coming along despite my father's parents being invited...I was furious) but it was great because I met my other sister and brother. That was roughly 14 years ago. Since then, though, we haven't talked much other than an occasional email.

Fast-forward to this week. My mother lets me know she heard through the grapevine that my father has cancer again. The first time, it was detected early, treated and went into remission. The fact that it has come back and is in the same area (prostate) is unsettling. Part of me is concerned I'll have to deal with it one day. The rest of me has a new set of mixed emotions: sadness, guilt, fear. I've shut out that part of me because, well, it's not a regular part of my life.

I've failed. That's how I feel right now. I've squandered whatever time I could have had with him up to now and am being forced to face that as his mortality is being tested yet again. I equally feel I don't deserve to be sad - his kids are having to deal with this first-hand and had to go through this once before. I have not been involved in the slightest.

Now I have to go back to the life in front of me. I need to process this some more if I'm going to do what I know I should do: email him or pick up the phone.