This is the kind of post I never thought I would write . . . either because I thought my dad would always just be dad or because if he ever got sick, I would fall apart.
But my dad is sick. Well, he was sick - he's just not getting better. My dad - the strongest man I have ever known - had a stroke last week. A mild one. True to my dad, he was NOT going to cooperate with an IV. So he was given a sedative. And he hasn't really come out of it.
There is a trifecta of reasons for this, I think. One, my dad is 84 years old. Which seems pretty old but considering his mom lived to be 94, is relatively November-ish. Two, my dad is totally whigged out about being in the hospital away from his home. Can't blame him there. I react that way when in the hospital. Three, because of 1 and 2, he is depressed. Just doesn't want to deal with it. Can't blame him there. He knows that when it is time (WHEN it is time), he's going to be going to a much better place.
But yet, I know my dad is going to be alright. My grandmother has been here and has told me that it isn't his time quite yet. I hope he is listening. I need my dad. I'm going to be 50 this year and I need to talk to my dad. I need to tell him that I am sorry for holding down his arm so that the nurses could put an IV in. I feel really bad about that because he was so mad - he didn't want that in.
I'll post some pictures to this post but I doubt that I will ever re-read it. The only reason I can write it is that I need to get rid of this lump in my throat. I also need to write it because I really love my father and need to put into writing that he is going to be fine. He just is.