After The Last Time

The Last Time

I slept like the dead last night but for some reason, today I am flying off the walls, stress wise.  I guess it’s because I’m going to visit my dad and I’m a bit worried about it for his sake as well as mine.   I haven’t seen him in months and I know there have been a lot of changes and I must prepare myself for them mentally and emotionally, which is never easy. 

A friend of mine was planning on visiting him on Saturday but he told her not to come and to please make it another day.  I know it’s because he’s worried about our visit; and I’m worried that he thinks I should have made the effort a long time ago.  He probably doesn’t think that, but my mind goes wandering off by itself in the darkest corners of the Universe and I pad along without question, idiot that I can be.  Okay, this post gets better, I promise.  LOL.  I just re-read what I wrote and I had written “bitter” not better.

I want to be there to support my dad with whatever his wishes are; and I know he wants to die.  He’s in pain, exhausted, tired of fighting and tired of living.  I know the feeling.  I have given him permission to let go a million times but he needs to see me in person and as a good friend of mine wrote to me (when I told her I was going) “It’s the right thing to do” Of course, I start thinking she has wanted to say that to me for a long time and that I’m not a very good daughter for not trying.  Again, those dark, cobwebbed corners call me to berate me and I listen keenly, right or wrong, crazy or sane.  Sigh.

The thing is, after helping my mom cross, I feel it’s the right thing to do for one who suffers.  Maybe that’s what my friend meant, knowing I had helped my mom. I need someone to do that for me, though no one thinks it’s time yet. No one but me, that is.  But I’m the only one who can say (besides of course, G-d).   And what does G-d think about me, if He thinks about me at all?  I was watching a couple episodes of “Saving Grace” about this out-of-control (but employed as a cop) woman who an angel tries to save.  I like those kinds of shows for some reason.  But I’m still very conflicted about what my life means, in the grand scheme of things.  Probably not much.   I think back to my early years and all the physical challenges I’ve always had and how title I’ve done with what I do have.  They say it’s never too late but given my level of pain/function, I’m not sure that’s true.

The hardest part for me is letting go of whether or not I’m believed.  Who cares? I know but still….I think I’m being judged all the time by those around me.  Because the only way I can function is to take myself out of my body and I do it so well, people often see me functioning at a level that confuses them.  It’s not a high level by any means.

But I can walk (with aid) and I can shop (on rare occasions) and I can fix my meals (with trouble) and take care of my personal needs (with caution) so long as I keep hearing the “take it slow” voice.

After the Last Time

You know how you have a thought and then lose it in almost the same instance?  Like trying to chase a dream that’s dissipating like a reflection in rippled water?  Just gone.  Well I have those thoughts all the time.  And I was thinking of my visit with my father on the long drive home (which Fran and Jeff and Ben made incredibly comfortably for me so it wasn’t bad at all…especially because I was also quite drugged.  Nothing beyond what’s recommended but more than I usually I allow myself due to side effects) about how we never know when the last time we see someone or do something, that it will be the last time that event happens.  Ever.  Due to many unknown factors like death, moving, the closing of a particular store/restaurant or the end of a friendship or marriage.  It doesn’t matter.  What matters, is that we are totally unaware when it happens, THAT it has happened.  Not until you happen to remember that experience or person and say to someone else “Who was that again?”  “What was the name of that place?” “Remember how we used to go to that one restaurant, what was the name of that again?”

It’s an interesting experience if you think about it.  It was the last time you did that particular thing, but had no knowledge ahead of time that it would be.   The last time.   What would you have done differently, if anything, if you had known?  Maybe nothing.  Maybe you wouldn’t believe that would happen.  Maybe you would just shrug and say “on to the next” and laugh.

Getting older gives you no prior knowledge of what is to come.  Not in big, flashy lights at any rate.  But if you listen, you can hear those wise voices I am always going on about, the ones that speak softly but carry a very big stick.  They are wise, wonderful, supportive and carrying.  They don’t always give us the answers we want, but they do answer.  You just need to listen, to be open, and to know that you are not your body.  You aging (yes, even the young among us), sometimes challenging, sometimes acceptable (in our minds) but always perfect no matter what body.   Give thanks for it.  Even on, maybe especially, on those days we want to chop all our limbs and scream at the stars for the pain that we live with.

And then remember everyone is some kind of pain; so many, so much worse.  The pain of families being torn apart in war, hunger, massacres, “random” shootings by schoolchildren or psychotics (well, are they anything else?) the craziness of our world and all those who reside in it…..sorry, don’t mean to ramble…I’m just so grateful for my day with my dad, sharing memories, making new ones.

Happy Father’s Day