A Son Never Forgets

Almost eight months ago, my dad was diagnosed as being terminally ill with prostate cancer. As it turned out, the finding had come way too late. At the time of its discovery, the cancer was already in its fourth stage. A bone scan revealed further that the cancer had already metastasized to my dad's bones. Given my dad's advanced age (he's 72) and the fact that the cancer is no longer localized, both surgery and chemotherapy are no longer viable options. We were also told that the time will come when my father will experience unbearable pain, the sort that could be eased only by administering morphine. We asked the doctor how much time we have left with my dad, and he simply told us this: Henceforth, every single day that we get to spend with my dad is already a gift from Above, and we should pray for the Lord to lend us our dad for just a little while longer. Translation? My dad can go anytime.

Almost eight months after we first learned of my dad's condition, he miraculously remains strong. He goes about doing his daily activities, drives himself to work (he's also a lawyer and teaches law subjects to college students), and still takes brisk walks every morning. He feels no pain whatsoever, whether physical or otherwise. His spirit has never wavered, and he soldiers on everyday. If you see him and did not know that he had cancer, you would think that he's in the pink of health.

On Sunday, 7 February 2010, I will pay tribute to my dad's strength and fortitude by running my first-ever full marathon at the 2010 Condura Run for the Dolphins. I will offer my struggles and my triumph on Sunday as a prayer for my dad to continue beating his affliction. My first-ever marathon will be my personal celebration of my dad's life and times, and of my expectation that my dad will keep on amazing us by continuously beating the odds. My DIY race bib will simply read "A.S.N.F." - A Son Never Forgets - borrowed from the movie "Men of Honor" and a reminder of everything that my marathon run will stand for.

On Sunday, 7 February 2010, I know I will run my heart out, cross the finish line, complete the marathon, and earn that finisher's medal. I know these for a fact because, if my dad can beat cancer, I sure as hell can conquer 42.195 kms in six hours or less.