Despite the treatment, I felt well enough to drive home that afternoon. But the car was silent as grave. Wanda and I still could not talk to one another about our common problem -- my cancer. She was sitting in the front with me and looking fixedly out the window. Britty (Kellys baby) was taking a nap, stretched out along the back seat.

　　 "Youre alive," I suddenly thought to myself. "You are alive. For three months, youve known you have cancer, but youre still alive."

　　 As I steered the car along the rough highway, I began to think of what I had been doing to myself and my family. Without really knowing it, all of us had been celebrating a funeral -- mine -- and the funeral had not even taken place yet. I was still alive. I was not dead. I had some time. I was forty-three years old, I had a wife who loved me, I had two sons and two daughters.

　　那天下午，尽管刚刚接受了治疗，我还是感觉能亲自驾车回家。车里死一般的寂静，我和婉达不谈我们共同的问题--我患了癌症。她坐在我旁边，凝视着窗外。布瑞蒂正躺在车后座打盹儿。

　　"你还活着，"我突然想起，"你还活着。三个月了，你知道自己身患癌症，可是还活着!"

　　汽车在崎岖的公路上奔驰，我开始想，这段时间我对自己，对我的家庭做了什么：大家并未真正意识到，实际上却是在举行一次丧礼--我的"丧礼"--当然丧礼并没有举行，因为我还活着，我没有死。我还有时间，我才43岁，有一个爱我的妻子，还有两个儿子，两个女儿。
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