I'm sitting here at my kitchen table on this sweltering, hot day. No, sweltering is not the right word. That makes is sound dripping and sweaty. It's so dry and hot outside...it's like walking straight toward a fire. It's too hot to sweat.
It's 3:00 p.m. and I recently realized I had forgotten to eat lunch. I was sitting on the couch, trying to wrangle a rambunctious little Lance, downing peanut M&Ms and crying off and on, when I remembered lunch.
I thought about eating two of the boiled eggs I had going on the stove. That sounded like a healthy alternative to the M&Ms. But then as I peeled the eggs, the thought of a nice big egg salad sandwich made my mouth water. So that's what I ate: two slices of Grandma Sycamore bread with egg salad piled high in between. It was somewhat comforting.
My dad has had another setback today. He's sick to his stomach with diarrhea, which makes us incredibly fearful of internal bleeding. When he went to take a shower this morning, he almost passed out and his speech started to slur. They took him for a CT scan and then an MRI to see if he's had another stroke. The neurologist didn't think so after his CT scan, but she was concerned about a brain infection. This just goes on and on! Stalee is there with Mom and Dad. She is keeping us updated.
At first I was fine. I casually told my neighbor that my Dad wasn't doing too well. And we talked for a minute about the worry of our parents. Her mom is nearing the end of her chemo for breast cancer. We both know how scary and sad it can be. But then as I drove off to the grocery store, tears welled up in my eyes and a lump formed in my throat.
Every time my dad gives us a scare, I think of all the things I want to tell him. But he's usually too sick for me to tell him any of those things. And then when he pulls through, it doesn't seem appropriate to say a final goodbye, just in case.
I have hope and I'm praying that all will eventually be well with my Dad, but I want to tell him a few things, just so he knows.
I want my Dad to know how much I've always loved him. I love so many of the same things as my dad. I remember so many times in my life when my dad was there, really there for me. Sometimes my dad gets up in the morning in the best mood. He sings, he dances, he kisses us all. At Lake Powell he would shout, "Geronimo" and cannon ball off the top of the houseboat. His screams would wake us all up. Then he would hip and holler and get ready to take us all waterskiing on the smooth, glassy water. I cherish those memories. I love that side of my dad. I feel like that is his true self. I've always felt so loved on those types of mornings, so happy that he is my dad.
Dad has given us everything. I'm just now starting to understand the pressure he was always under. He had a large family, a stressful career, a huge home and yard, big church callings, lots of health challenges, and yet I always felt loved and safe and protected. I always knew, wherever I went, that my Dad was there to catch me if I fell.
I want him to know that we will all be okay. He's instilled a strong faith in each of us. I know he loves the Lord and believes in the Plan of Salvation. I do too. With all my heart. We will all be okay. We will all take care of Mom. If anything ever happens, we will love her and entertain her and keep her safe.
They say when something life-threatening happens, your life flashes before your eyes. I feel like that keeps happening to me with my dad. Another text, another scare and I'm right back to remembering a whole life with my dad in it. All I can do is sit and let the memories wash over me. It is sweet and bitter all at once.
Stalee shared a special moment with me. She talked of Dad breaking down after another word of bad news. Then Mom loving wrapped her arms around his head, buried her face in his hair and cried along with him. That image has stayed with me. It's mourning with those who mourn. It's comforting those who stand in need of comfort. But it's also a lifelong love forged in the fire of trials and triumphs spanning decades.
I have had moments of intense distress in my life as I've watched my parents struggle to get along at times. As their child, I've hated those moments. But as an adult, I've realized that every couple has their difficult moments. Hearing Stalee talk of this tender exchange, when they were oblivious to the beeping and swishing of the machines... the smells and sounds of the hospital... the floods and fires raging in the world around us; just two people, hanging on to one another for dear life... full of nothing but love and tenderness for one another... exhibited under extremely difficult circumstances. That image was incredibly healing to me. And I just knew that everything was going to be all right.
Everything is going to be all right.
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