#Vaguebooking, for those who don’t know, is the insufferable habit of people posting vague comments on Facebook with the express intention of getting to worriedly ask what’s wrong. I succumbed to this yesterday and today, and it’s time I stop.

My father is dying. He has cancer. He probably only has a few months to go. And no, despite all evidence to the contrary, I probably don’t want to talk about it.

I have so very much to say about this. (Side note: I realized after I typed that sentence that I said virtually the same thing after five years ago when my sister died.) But I’ve resisted writing anything, much less posting anything, out of respect for my father’s privacy.

Yesterday, though, I had the first crack in my resolve, as I posted something vaguely appreciative toward people who fielded emotional phone calls from me… And then today, I #vaguebooked about the soundtrack to Hamilton making me cry after 12 days.

I’ve been grateful to those friends who’ve reached out privately to ask if everything was okay. But really, I then became annoyed at myself, for being so self-indulgent. I’m either going to write about it, in which case I need to come right out and say what’s going on, or I need to shut the hell up about it. Unfortunately I don’t think the latter is really an option here.

My dad would likely be furious if he knew I was writing about his health. He specifically asked in our first conversation about his cancer that I not write on Facebook or the Internet about it. With apologies to my father, though, I’m channeling the stubbornness that I inherited from him, and dealing with this in the only way that I know how.

When I’m dealing with difficult decisions, or emotionally charged subjects, I tend to blog my way through my feelings. (Better than Ben & Jerry’s or Jack Daniel’s, no?) Not being able to process my feelings on this subject, through my blog, has been driving me nuts for the better part of two weeks. Quite simply, I can’t not write about this. It’s too important to me. There’s too much swirling around in my head.


This is me, when I’m not allowed to blog about something.

That doesn’t mean that I’m eager to talk about this. I’ve had a couple of conversations with people this week, mostly from the perspective of what the hell I’m supposed to do about my job during all of this, but that’s about it. (And that’s a separate subject, and likely another blog post or six.) But really, I haven’t worked through what I think and feel about this, so I don’t really want to get into that with people just yet.

For now, let’s change the subject, shall we?


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