I remember when a friend's father lost his remaining parent. As we stood at the funeral watching the coffin being carried out of the church, he said to no one in particular, "I am no longer anyone's little boy." The phrase stuck with me, and I think of it now because I wonder if that is me--no one's little girl.

My mother's health is improving, and I hope she will make a full recovery. But my Dad is now going where my mother has recently been--into the land of scalpels, chemo, and radiation. Although they have been divorced since I was 9 years old, and they have rarely talked in the years since, they are now walking the same path. Today, the surgeon opened him up, and then closed the incision, without removing the cancer-riddled section of lung. The cancer had spread to the other lung, and metastasized throughout his body. The surgeon knew he could do nothing.

So what it all means, I don’t know yet. Dad will meet in his oncologist on Thursday, and we will know more. But I do know this: I am not anyone’s little girl anymore, even as both my parents live. The roles have reversed, and while my father will not need my daily care as my mother does (my wonderful stepmother will provide that), I know what those of us in the Sandwich Generation know: my relationship with my father will never be the same.

Thanks to Eric Montross for saying so many nice things about my father on the radio show this weekend (I got e-mails even here in SC about it), and thanks also to the UNC Basketball Office for sending my Dad and my brothers to the ACC Tournament this past weekend. I am always grateful to be part of the Carolina family.

You Tar Heel fans can read a little bit about my father’s athletic career in this article called “Big Jim”. Or this one at the UNC site called Former Players Get Tickets, Give Inspiration. Finally, another one about a recent reunion to honor UNC coaches here