As I witness life with my hands tied behind my back and my heart pounding loudly and echoing off the canyon’s wall… I am not afraid but wearing thin.
As I listen to the unanswerable question – why, especially as it runs around poking at the festering wound then hides. It causes me to look around and doubt my choices, my response and myself. I find my energy nearing the breaking point.
Then to hear the insensitive suggestion, "Feed him less." It makes me want to throw up, pulls me to a dark corner where I see death as a gift and then shudder at the avenue. Ah the places one will go to when one is desperate…. for a change.
To know the well meaning response, "If there is anything I can do-" as a token of friendship. Knowing there is plenty to do, but most things seem trivial to ask for compared to the real unsolvable thing at hand. It is the lack of control, the letting go, the nodding of the head, the thank you for asking, and realizing that the next moment is not in our control. Friendship is a damn good offer.
The constant watching, thinking, analyzing, directing, deciding, listening, praying and the lack of sleeping…the constant wave, no tidal wave against the empty shore.
Am I tired… yes.
How do I do it… with these words, "Do unto others as you would want them to do unto you."
Is my father getting better? He is 81, his heart is strong, but he is very weak, and slowly recovering and slipping at the same time. As my brother Mathew has said about dad, "He takes two steps forward, one step back, two steps to the side."
The thinking part of me realizes that my father has lived a good life, has reached old age, and that his time has come… but the feeling part of me aches at what I see…
I lied, I am not tired, I am exhausted- as is my father and my mother. I shouldn’t complain but that is how it is and there isn’t anything to do but to wake up and face the day with grace and courage.
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