I sit in the basement of my parent's house. As I type these words I pull my athletic top up over my mouth to ward off the cold, to keep the chill in my bones from shaking my fingers so badly that typing becomes a chore. Nothing I do can stop the cold; no amount of heat from the fire place, no blanket, no hat for my head can keep out the chill because the permeation of cold I feel is far more than physical.
I came up for the weekend to see my dad. He has gotten worse. That is so inadequate in describing what I see before me. No amount of warning, no intellectual understanding could prepare me for seeing my own father like I saw dad. How does one go from a man willing to fight, to live life and battle to a shell, an individual devoid of all but pain and hopelessness, in such a short time? Two weeks ago he helped me with the gutters. Two weeks! Now he cannot even rise from the couch without help, without doubling over in pain from the effort.
My father, a retired anesthesiologist, one of the smartest men I have ever met, a man who could build, create and fix anything can no longer hold a meaningful conversation. High on Morphine and Oxycodone he slurs his speech and talks of grizzly bears. You can see the pain, not pain of a physical nature (thank God) but the pain of being helpless, of watching his own body fail him.
I cannot fathom how hard this is for him. To see the sands of his life fall knowing there are only a few grains left, to have all of those you love not be able to help, to rather possess only the power to hover and hope they are bringing more than annoyance. All he wants is for it to be over, for the pain and the suffering to end so he can rest. I tend to agree with him, until I see mom. Her world will end when dad passes. I pray that she finds the strength to carry on, to see the world as a good place rather than a world that took her world from her.
I haven't cried about it. I've felt the emotion, the rush of blood, the tingle of sadness that causes my hair to stand on end four times now but, save for a couple of tears, nothing. I know it will come. The realization that my dad, the man who raised me, who taught me to pee standing up, to understand the world and how it works, to sail and to be a man is going to be gone in less that a month. That will hit with a power that scares the life out of me.
Each time I've started to cry, felt the wave of emotion flood over me trying to pull me under, it stops. The tears vanish, repressed out of fear. I'm know I am afraid to cry; I'm afraid to see and feel the pain and suffering of at least 15 years of life lived, of love and innocence lost.
A favor:
I ask that you view life deeper than a surface existence. It often feels like everyone is only aware of what is immediately in front of them and notices only how it affects them. How can we lose sight of what all experiences mean to others.
Live life with the thought that everyone, everything around you is connected. Everything has a relevance to you and you, in turn, have a greater relevance than you may have ever imagined. You have the chance to make a difference in everything you choose to. Don't take life for granted, don't expect things, rather, ensure their value by showing it means something to you. Life can change with such suddenness. Don't be caught with things you wish you had done, things you wish you had said. Life is too short.
