Time to Check Back In
Well, if you're reading this right now, then you either have RSS feed or you're really persistent. I know it's been a long time. Forever in Blogworld. For whatever reason I have not been able to write for months, trying but finding that my thoughts to be small and scattered. For the past few days, though, they've seemed more solid, almost visible when I close my eyes, so I'm venturing an attempt to capture them here.
I guess a good place to begin would be to update you on what has happened with my father. My dad is much, much better, physically. He is not the person he used to be, and I've gradually come to realize (and grieve) that he will not be that person again. But releasing the old Dad has surprisingly opened my eyes to the new Dad. This Dad has a terrible short-term memory and bouts of confusion and a frailer body, but his warm heart and the smile that lights up his face when we come to see him are warmer and lighter than they have ever been. He's more joyful, happier than he's been in years. He knows all of us who love him, all the time, even if he doesn't remember our conversation from the last visit. He is game for most any adventure or outing, regales us with funny stories from his childhood, and showers us with appreciation for anything we do for him.
What's more, I am not the person I was before my dad's crisis. I'm making the transition from the daughter who calls on her parents for help to the daughter on whom her parents rely for help. It is a strange position and has taken some getting used to. I did not know how much I loved my dad until I discovered that I can be patient with him when he's telling me the same story for the fourth time in one hour. Really patient, not just pretending to be. I did not know that I would stop feeling frustrated over all the old patterns and tug-of-wars that children play with their parents and start feeling amused by them, even grateful for them.
My dad no longer punches the same buttons he used to in me. Maybe it's the transfer of power; maybe it's the beginning of realizing that I'm standing on my own, and that I will be okay. The strength I got from him no longer depends on his physical presence but on the memories and experiences and lessons he spent years cultivating in me, that have now not only rooted but blossomed into their own being, separate from him but owing their existence to him. It's a wondrous lesson that I can hardly believe.
I have more to say about this process, later. I'm very hopeful that I'm back for a long while.
I guess a good place to begin would be to update you on what has happened with my father. My dad is much, much better, physically. He is not the person he used to be, and I've gradually come to realize (and grieve) that he will not be that person again. But releasing the old Dad has surprisingly opened my eyes to the new Dad. This Dad has a terrible short-term memory and bouts of confusion and a frailer body, but his warm heart and the smile that lights up his face when we come to see him are warmer and lighter than they have ever been. He's more joyful, happier than he's been in years. He knows all of us who love him, all the time, even if he doesn't remember our conversation from the last visit. He is game for most any adventure or outing, regales us with funny stories from his childhood, and showers us with appreciation for anything we do for him.
What's more, I am not the person I was before my dad's crisis. I'm making the transition from the daughter who calls on her parents for help to the daughter on whom her parents rely for help. It is a strange position and has taken some getting used to. I did not know how much I loved my dad until I discovered that I can be patient with him when he's telling me the same story for the fourth time in one hour. Really patient, not just pretending to be. I did not know that I would stop feeling frustrated over all the old patterns and tug-of-wars that children play with their parents and start feeling amused by them, even grateful for them.
My dad no longer punches the same buttons he used to in me. Maybe it's the transfer of power; maybe it's the beginning of realizing that I'm standing on my own, and that I will be okay. The strength I got from him no longer depends on his physical presence but on the memories and experiences and lessons he spent years cultivating in me, that have now not only rooted but blossomed into their own being, separate from him but owing their existence to him. It's a wondrous lesson that I can hardly believe.
I have more to say about this process, later. I'm very hopeful that I'm back for a long while.
posted by Mamabird @ 1:21 PM
1 Comments:
At 1:23 AM,
Patty in WA or Rover said…
Welcome back!
We are walking a parallel path; you seem more grown-up about it than I.
Glad for the companionship.
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