Sometimes, when I leave the hospital after seeing my dad, I feel guilty. Guilty that life is just going on. I'm talking and laughing with friends who are trying to cheer me up. Chatting it up on FB and Twitter. Shouldn't I be focused on him and what's going on?
But to see him like he is now, it's just draining. I mean, he was JUST at my grandma's funeral, singing and talking about when he asked her if it was ok to marry my mom...waaaaaaaay back yonder around 1961 or so. Now, he can barely talk. The smallest movements, like lifting his hand for something, or turning his head to talk to you, take so much energy. I can see him shaking from the exertion.
It's 12:25am and I'm wide awake. Partly because of some indigestion (my eating patterns have been very "off" since I've been here), and mostly because every time I close my eyes, I see him. Every time my phone rings, and it's my brother, I catch my breath 'cause I don't know if it's "the call." The more days that pass, I know we're getting closer to that call. I'm just trying to focus on the now, like getting him transferred tomorrow. But I know that every day that passes, we get closer to "that day."
I guess this is all part of death and grief. Just gotta work through it. It's normal. I think most people who have been through this would tell me that it is part of the process. And I don't think Dad expects our lives outside the hospital to just stop.
Knowing all that doesn't make it easier, though.
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