I’m pretty sure I had it. I still might have it. I’ve been through too much the last 3 years. Not to brag but I’m certain some wouldn’t have made it out alive, enduring what I did. I am better than I was. I’ve fought. I’ve struggled. It’s been so hard. I am not fully arrived at peace. But, I’m enroute.
Today, my 77 year old dad will hopefully find some peace of his own. I write this from the surgery waiting area at the hospital where my dad will have his surgeries to repair his back. Sometimes, when I think about what he’s about to go through, I feel so scared. If he doesn’t make it, I will have no living parent left. I decide that this isn’t an option. I am confident that soon, my dad will be new again. He’s in and out of sleep as he waits his turn. I didn’t sleep well last night. But, I’m wide-awake.
When my dad talks about life and about death, he expresses a deep appreciation in what his life has been. I’m glad for his grateful heart, but we that are living need him with us longer.
It’s so hard to convey to others how fortunate they are. It’s so hard to be around those who are so fortunate at times. Perhaps this is where I am least at peace. Grandparents day at my girl’s pre-school is in 10 days. Who will go? It is these reminders that bring me back to sadness. I resort to repeating to myself, “I miss my mom.”
The past 3 years although sprinkled with beautiful moments, have been rather dark. I don’t want my brightening light to be dimmed once more. I just don’t want to go there.
Please send positive vibes for an amazing outcome today… or booze…. or my mom.
Thanks.
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