I've spend this weekend in a daze. My Dad went into the hospital on Friday and we brought him home yesterday with the news that there was damage to his heart and they'd done some surgery and that things would have to change and there would be medications for the rest of his life.
It just all came as a surprise. No blood pressure issues, no cholesterol issues, no family history of heart problems and then this; such a shock and an unwelcome surprise.
I keep trying, we all do, to see the good in this, the positive, but right now I'm still shocked and my dreams aren't restful and then I wake up in the morning and feel good until I remember and then it all seems really surreal and it reminds me of when Bird got hurt; one moment I'd be fine, and the next I'd be crying.
I'm so very up and down and have to use the up moments when they're here. I'm assuming it'll get better and we'll adjust and all will be well and good and better but the ground's moving under my feet and I know my parents are older but I didn't want and don't want proof of that.
I keep having to tell people that he's fine, because isn't that what you say when someone's still alive? Is he fine? I don't know. We thought he was fine and it turns out he wasn't and hasn't been so now I don't know anymore.
Has this given me a glimpse of a future I don't want to get to? Absolutely.
But baby steps, no point rushing ahead, just get through today or maybe this hour and people around me are being so understanding and I appreciate that and I keep trying to pretend it's all going to be ok but we know what's inevitable. . . death and taxes.
I probably won't mention this again unless I have to, so I'll just write about the other things, the things that don't make me dizzy and don't make my eyes fill up with tears when they're not supposed to.
Like C-Dawg.
Who's here, in town, which makes this both the happiest and hardest weekend I've known.
But that's life, no? The highest highs and jumping up and down with excitement at seeing your most wonderful friend who adds so much joy and laughter to your life and those highs sit right next to the most frightening of uncertainties.
And they get along. They chat in life's waiting room, friendly, cordial. . . life's like that.
Excuse the wandering, it's all a blur.
And forgive me if I don't lie and tell you I'm ok, that he's ok, that we're ok. Because we are and we aren't.
