I watched the game surrounded by family in my living room. I was sitting in my every game seat next to my dad. He's a six time cancer survivor at the age of 51. When he goes through treatment we spend many a day looking down on the uc from hospital rooms at rush. We often talked about the "old days" to pass the time...hiding my radio from my parents when I was supposed to be sleeping....listening to games in the garage while he worked on whatever project...rocking the jr jersey in 92 and not understanding why they couldn't stop the pens...what we wouldn't give to have the hawks back, really back, one more time....
I cried a little when, on the night of game 1, after dropping half a paycheck because there was no way I would allow him to NOT be in that building, we walked into that same east end we used to stare down at from the hospital. I let a few hidden tears slip, shocked and in awe that he fought his way to 2010. But last night was a different story.
Yesterday he had what is potentially cancer number 7 dug out of his chin. He sat next to me with a new pain med script and a set of fresh stitches. So you can imagine what happened when I looked at him after seeing Kane start to skip down the ice. His jaw was on the floor. His eyes, which I have never seen cry, were glazed with tears. He was shaking his head and mouthing what I assume were supposed to be words but were totally soundless. I couldn't hold it together. I lost it. Not sobbing, but giant tears just pouring down my face. When Toews lifted the cup like a little school kid, giggling and yelling, neither of us could keep from deleriously laughing. I can not think of any moment from my 25 years when I literally experienced every possible physical manifestation of emotion at the same time, literally laughing, crying, shaking, all at the same time. I can't describe it in any other way than by saying it was simply incredible. I will never forget that single moment in time. No one else existed in the world except me, my dad, and those warriors in white.