My Dad is Dying  I'm at a big house where my dad and Lisa live. Lisa's sister and her three kids visit them, arriving in a tan-colored mini van. My dad is sick. He has an illness in his urinary tract. Lisa's sister cries as she says goodbye to dad, like it's the last time they'll see each other because he is dying. My dad holds up her little blond infant daughter, and moves her around the room flying like an airplane. The infant smiles. My dad and I are going into the house. He can't open the door. Lisa is inside. She must not hear us at the door. I go around back and Lisa is relaxing in a rocking chair. She says the door is open. I open a screen door in the back and enter just as my dad gets the door open. He needs to urinate frequently and pays close attention to the color, time, and salt in his urine. He is sick. My brother Wally and sisters Heather and Ramona are there. We're upstairs in a room. My dad is downstairs. I look at a book of CD's, many of which have skulls and dead people-like monsters on their covers. We look at Ramona's yearbook which has photographs and movie-like clips of Wally and I. Wally's friend Trevor Peterson and other volleyball players are there. They talk about playing a good opponent one-on-one: always digging the ball, and being in the mud. My dad is outside in his old blue workshop where he used to live, in the storage portion of it on the left side. He is urinating. He was planning a charter-fishing trip to Lake Erie in August. My siblings and I don't know what is wrong with him, or what is happening with his illness. I feel sad and guilty that I don't know, because he is my dad. I want to know what is going on with him. I go downstairs. He has just urinated, and is washing his hands. I ask him what is wrong. He says he's decided not to go on the fishing trip because of his health. While I am sad about this, it is actually okay because I'll have more time to myself. He tells me about some sores that have developed around his mouth and nose. He says the doctor says they can be taken care of with medication. I feel that he is sugar coating it, and not dealing seriously with the problem. I walk around the house, which is nice and big. I see an electronic typewriter. My dad is frying two big fish fillets. My friend Kevin Simpson is there. He is filleting or frying fish too. I eat a bite of fish that has a bone in it that is a whole spinal column with ribs. I think it would be a terrible and painful way to die, for my dad to have trouble with his urinary tract. He is leaving. I go to the parking lot of Fishing Haven, to his car. I tell him I may take the last week or so off work so I can go home and be with him and my mom. We hug and I kiss him. I cry.