Secrets of Revealed

It’s been awhile since my last post. I could barely remember how to login.  Sad face.

Thankfully, I had 11,179 comments waiting patiently for my triumphant return. Though I have not yet had the pleasure to make an acquaintance with all the authors, they are apparently among my greatest friends and supporters, EVER!

Most of the comments are on the order of solicitations, eg spam bots. Among the tempting offers are MIND BLOWING deals for female Viagra (cheap), codeine and other narcotics without having to bother with those annoying prescriptions, Nuru massages in New York City, a herd of midget brides from Pakistan, enough Rogaine to turn a corpse into a gorilla and steroids for days. These happy and erstwhile spammers represent a veritable melting pot of countries, though a preponderance reached out from the ether from Russia and China. Huh.

Anyways, being a good catholic (or at least raised one while bending the laws of fluid mechanics with the term ‘good’) I found myself feeling more and more guilty by the day for not coming back here to blog sooner. Being a good thinker (raised by some, though in truth I believe I come by ‘overthinking’ quite naturally), I asked myself, ‘Why? Why do I feel guilty for not posting lately?’

The answer concerns 2 things. These are, if you will, the founding partners of

For one, there’s hope.

Namely that the story here gave/gives someone a bit of hope. Surviving 98 brain tumors, as well as malignant tumors in liver-lungs-stomach is not something you hear about every day.

Along those lines, I am pleased to report additional good news…Last April marked 5 years since my diagnosis!

I am now a five year, Stage IV terminal cancer survivor.

Miraculously topside despite a dismal 6 weeks to live and less than a 5% chance of survival (some would have said no chance of survival) prognosis. Scans/studies/examinations have all been quite good lately as well. Thank you God.

That’s a lot of anniversaries (16 years on the 23rd of June, Love you Sarah) birthdays, holidays, fun days, work days, every kinda days. The vast majority have been good, many have been great days. Some tough too. I know what it’s like to fear eating for years straight. To have pain = 11 on the 1-10 pain scale. Surgeries, needles, pills, hospital beds, doctors, nurses, assistants, clerks and administrators. Fevers, rashes, muscle aches, headaches, nausea, intestinal agony, other conditions. Perhaps my multinational friends upstairs (eg from the second paragraph above) could have helped me with some of these problems. Many of you reading this post unquestionably did. Thank you!

I also hope that even though we might not know each other directly, that helped you too. Love helping btw. Let me know if you have questions or need something. I mean it. It’s probably cuz I like talking about ‘Leland.’ Either way, let me know. I’ve learned how to listen (or at least do a passable job pretending).

Oh yeah, and now for “the two”…that is, the second reason I began this blog. Not “Number Two” by the way. That’s a well-timed conversation to have at the dinner table with the boys later. We will wait for Sarah to sit down so she can enjoy the conversation.

No, what I realize to be the second purpose of this blog.

Warning– this second reason is a bit more personal. Perhaps this doesn’t make sense to suggest that anything gets more personal than talking about one’s own survival.

But the personal nature of the second reason makes total sense to me. Problem is I get instantaneously nervous thinking about spilling the beans. My heart – pretty sure I have one – aches at the thought. Tears well. I squirm in my chair and start enumerating the ways to weasel. Never been one to say how I really feel and I am about to say what I feel very deeply.

Before we get there, read this. It’s my friend Polly’s latest post. Polly’s got more natural writing chops in her little pinky than I have in my entirety. She flashes it sometimes on her blog and Facebook and in spoken words at meetings and at church…even if she doesn’t think so.

Reading her latest post while gnashing over my own “failure to communicate” lately, I put the puzzle pieces together today. I realized what I needed to say. It’s what I wanted to be…even if I did not know or admit to myself at the time when I started it.

So seriously, spit-it-out-dude, what’s the second reason for the fricking blog already?

For the boys. The second reason I wrote here was for the boys. I started this blog for my two boys, Connor and Derek Fay.

I wanted them to have something (however silly or fragmented) to know their Dad in the event that circumstances took me away (if hopefully only for while). I hoped that my thoughts and personality would come through in some small way. That we could have a kind of conversation, however faltering, on the pages here. While we might be deprived of more memories together, at least they could read a little and know me better. My unspoken hope was that this blog gave them something of myself when they got older.

So here’s my number 2, which is actually number one, my word to the boys:

Dear Connor and Derek,

It’s me. The goofy one, flaws and all. Perhaps not all of me landed here on these pages but some parts that hopefully matter.

First, I want you to know how much I love you.

If there has ever been or ever will be any doubt in your mind that I wasn’t desperate to be there for graduations, phone calls, goals, penalties, movies, books, laughs, practices, shows, whatever… or any I doubt I was sorry for any mistakes I made, knowingly or not (BTW you haven’t figured it out yet – I don’t think so anyways – but there will likely be a time when you think I made a lot of these 0-;)… if you have any doubts at all, feel free to forget them. 

I like to believe – though I don’t think any man or woman can claim this until it actually happens – that I would step in front of bullets for you. No questions asked. Push the papers across the table and hand me the bleeping pen and show me where to sign. I’m in.

And I want you to know too that I believe you can survive the most impossible situations. Doesn’t mean you will. Part of achieving victory is, paradoxically, accepting your likely defeat, first.

So when and if you get knocked to the ground, I suggest you stay for a minute and soak in the view, realizing that on your own you can’t do it, beat it, fight, handle it. But may be with a Power greater than yourself perhaps you can. Affirming this, stand and get back in the game. That’s what I like to believe I did for you a few times.

Guess what? Expect the same of you.

Do it.

Not just because I am your Dad and you are commanded to obey me (though that’s not a bad reason 0-;), but because that is the secret to life, to success and to victory over everything else, such as I understand it.

More than anything I wanted to share that secret with you.

Big Love to you – Connie-Boy and Big-D,


That was fun. Thanks for listening.

Now, let me see…where was that offer for wrinkle free underwear and the stain resistant socks…