Tough day at work today, followed by a tough late afternoon at my mom's place.
After spending the day in depositions with a very difficult attorney, I met with the executive director at Maristone to express some concerns Tracy, Alice and I have about the care my mom is receiving. It's as if it's not enough for us to watch my mom fade away a little bit more every day; on top of that, now we have to worry if she is receiving the care to which she is entitled and which we have been promised.
I got home late, after dinner, and just felt so down. As I was taking my suit off in my walk-in closet, I heard Joe running down the stairs asking J.P., "is dad home?" Fresh from a shower, Joe ran into the bedroom, found me in the closet and gave me a hug. "I love you, daddy," he said. Mentally and emotionally spent, I looked down at him - his arms around my waist - and said "I love you too, buddy." Just for a minute, I felt blessed by God again.
We watched the end of "Cars 2," then put the boys to bed. Then, I talked to Jude for a minute and went for a run.
Running is all I have right now, or so it seems. I feel numb all of the time. Running makes me hurt. Running makes me exert myself, to sweat. Running makes me feel real. It's hard to explain, but the only time I feel I have some semblance of my life, right now, is when I am running. I can run faster or slower and I an stop whenever I want to, wherever I want to. Tonight, I stopped at The Filling Station and had a beer.
As I was finishing my beer, I saw Eric, a 22-year old Belmont U. graduate I first go to know when he worked at Bongo Java. He saw me as he was walking by, stopped, and I bought him a beer. We talked about movies, books and life, which is what we usually do when I run into him in the neighborhood at random times and places. Eric is a good kids, just starting out in life. It's interesting to me to get his perspective on things.
At amy rate, he made me smile tonight and forget for a few minutes the helplessness I feel as I watch my mom struggle to maintain some semblance of normal life in what time she has left. For that, I was grateful.
1 comment:
Phil, I remember many, many years ago, I was in a very dark place one night. Can't quite remember what it was but I know I was just feeling so overwhelmed and helpless and despairing. I remember going into Hope's room and crawling into bed -- she was already laid down for the night. She must have been 4, no older than 5, no way. And I remember being sad and crying a little bit, and she asked me what was wrong and I said something like "Oh honey, your daddy is just sad tonight. I'm having a hard time." And I remember Hope putting her little arm across my shoulders across my back and just saying "It'll be okay, daddy, okay?"
So I know exactly what you mean.
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