He is home and it is good and it is difficult. Last week brought him rage and confusion and the tangible fear that he will slip away and I will no longer have a father. A valentines day spent in tears, pleading for a legal inheritance to be solidified to support my brother. "I'm not ready yet". Bowls held to hold milky vomit. A glimpse at what will come and a trembling in my heart that wouldn't cease. Some times it is too much and the days that will come threaten to dissolve the ones which are here. I want to ask him for his stories, but keep waiting. The idea that there will one day be no more tomorrows is ungraspable. There are too many days kept in waiting and less at my home, less of my life. I grumble like a child scorned when he fails to be my father as he should be. This is not as he should be.
1. My love met my oldest friend in the world and mother to my beautiful godchildren and they liked one another.
2. I spent an evening wandering across the city looking at art with friends and got a pile of belated birthday presents.
3. My Dad called up the stairs to wake me up on Tues and I never thought I'd hear that again.
4. The cancer has spread to his bones making moving more painful every day.
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