2739.75 miles
I just mapquested the distance between my home and the hospital where my dad is currently staying, following the heart attack he had roughly 30 hours ago. I was informed about this 'situation' (I don't know the word one should use regarding the phone call that tells you someone you love is ill.) this morning, just before breakfast. It was my dad's wife who let me know. I have to admit, I'm grateful she didn't call me yesterday when details were sketchy. I would've worried all day long. It was kind of her to wait until my dad was stabilized and there was a better idea as to his recovery. I'm told he's going to be okay.
I have an odd relationship with my dad. He is a typical male in his mid-60's. The type of guy who doesn't talk about feelings or emotional issues that leave deep scars. He doesn't want to discuss or even spend much time, I guess, thinking about why his family dissolved the way it did, scattering each of it's members like dandelion seeds in the wind. Instead of a discussion which might promote healing, he'll say with a shaking, broken voice, "I know I made mistakes." That's his way of saying, "I'm not comfortable talking about this, just let it be."... And that's what I do. I'm either too much of a child to demand he face the questions that are 'too hard' or just adult enough to understand none of it will make a difference at this point.
The question I asked on the phone this morning was, "Do I need to come out there?" The reply was a polite, yet firm, "No, the doctor says he's going to be fine." I'm told my younger sister has been there to help. This is comforting to know because for several years my dad and my sister had cut off all communication to each other. I guess they worked things out, probably with a short chat in which my dad said, "I know I made mistakes." I haven't spoken to my sister in probably 10 yrs. but I wish I could let her know how much I appreciate that she's there with Dad now... While I bide my time considering 2739.75 miles.
I have an odd relationship with my dad. He is a typical male in his mid-60's. The type of guy who doesn't talk about feelings or emotional issues that leave deep scars. He doesn't want to discuss or even spend much time, I guess, thinking about why his family dissolved the way it did, scattering each of it's members like dandelion seeds in the wind. Instead of a discussion which might promote healing, he'll say with a shaking, broken voice, "I know I made mistakes." That's his way of saying, "I'm not comfortable talking about this, just let it be."... And that's what I do. I'm either too much of a child to demand he face the questions that are 'too hard' or just adult enough to understand none of it will make a difference at this point.
The question I asked on the phone this morning was, "Do I need to come out there?" The reply was a polite, yet firm, "No, the doctor says he's going to be fine." I'm told my younger sister has been there to help. This is comforting to know because for several years my dad and my sister had cut off all communication to each other. I guess they worked things out, probably with a short chat in which my dad said, "I know I made mistakes." I haven't spoken to my sister in probably 10 yrs. but I wish I could let her know how much I appreciate that she's there with Dad now... While I bide my time considering 2739.75 miles.
posted by EmBee at 9:18 AM
2 Comments:
wow, i am sorry. it's a thing like this that rips all the scabs off of whatever wounds were incurred that haven't healed. prayers for you, your dad, your family. hugs to you, friend.
You're always so eloquent Lime... Thanks so much.
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