The two year plan.

We parents all enjoyed the small talk, during our orientation. What's your son's major? Where are you from? Is this your first college student? How many kids do you have? One guy in particular talked a great deal to my husband and I. Actually he talked to me. Actually he answered questions that I asked him. Anyway, I'll call him John. He was a father of three. Husband. A slow deliberate voice that paused between words. We met him the first night, on Tuesday. I made fun of him not being able to find his room. He chuckled back at me, on his third trip, past us, sitting on the couch watching the NBA final game. After the Wednesday sessions, my husband and I sat outside reading and watching young people playing Frisbee golf, trying to avoid returning to the depressing dorm room. As we made our way to our room, John was in the hallway. Of course I inquired about his day. Was he as tired as we were? What did he think about the campus? What about the info classes? Just the general talk. Suddenly, John said this was going to difficult for him, he just wanted his son to be okay and get settled in to the college routine. He was worried about him making it as he was a "hell raiser in college." My husband laughed. Then he spoke, " I probably won't be around in a couple of years." I blinked thinking my ears would hear more clearly just exactly what he said. I replied, " excuse me." John spoke seriously regarding cancer surgery and unexpected return of the dreaded disease. Cancer located in places that cannot be removed surgically and doesn't respond to chemo very well. Suddenly no one was laughing or making small talk. The hallway became quiet, cold, unwelcome to the air I was trying to suck into my lungs and head to keep the lump from rising and changing the tone of my voice. We three stood there. Seconds. Seemed like minutes. Now my husband gaze is to the floor, chasing dust balls with his loafers. I finally break the silence. "I don't know what to say to you or do for you, but I will remember to speak your name and remember your family during my prayers." We exchange a few general words before leaving and walking down our hallway that suddenly did not seem so gray and drab. In fact, the dorm room wasn't as small as I had remembered it. My husband and I remarked over the hallway conversation. Life sort of stood still in our 10x10 room. I wasn't focused on my overwhelmed brain. I wasn't worried about the cost of college or our son being less than excited about this place. I was thinking about one son, whose father, that may not make it through the college years. I am quite sure one father wasn't too concerned with the 28% graduation rate in four years, realizing his time is much shorter than he planned.