I have a lot on my mind tonight. There's no coherent theme, really, just a bunch of jumbled, random reflections about my day.
After dropping off my nephew at work this morning, I found myself deliberately taking a wrong turn on my way to Mom and Dad's. I chalked it up to a bit of reluctance to visit. I wanted to see my parents, but this trip isn't a vacation and I acknowledge that. I specifically came here to help my dad through his first few sessions of chemo. It's overwhelming, seeing how cancer has formed Dad into a shell of his former self. More introspective. More unsure about the future and yet more decisive about the present. I am pleased - so pleased - that Dad wants to spend time with me doing the activities he likes best while it is still possible for him to do so, but even if I won't admit it, this experience is taking a toll on me. Dad could have years left when all is said and done, but this glimpse of his death has given me pause. He is my favorite parent, the one I get along with best, and though I feared him as a child because he was a scary tyrant, losing him would crush me.
We spent the day doing his fun errands first: dropping of Little Free Library books, collecting more books from Bishop's Attic, purchasing a stack of books from Todd Communications; then finished up with the not-so-fun errands: prescriptions at Wal-Mart, 2020 Turbo Tax from Fred's (H&R Block did not have a CD, so the decision was made for him this year), the post office. There was even enough time to visit the bread store where he insisted he buy me a couple loaves of 3 for $5 bread.
On the way home, he asked if I was sticking around. I told him I'd probably take a walk and then head back to Blythe and Dustun's. I wanted to get dinner ready. He said he'd be taking a nap, but that Mom (who was technically at work) would probably love the company.
He called later to ask what the plan was for tomorrow, though I'd already told him several times. Now I wonder if he called to say good-bye, since I left while he was napping.
Dad once told me I was his favorite daughter. Does he feel his mortality like I do? Is my being here a reminder of the fragility of life?
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