Making Up

I am making up for lost time
Lost chapters, lost entries, lost words.

Weeks have gone by and I haven't any idea how I have felt. I became numb in late March. I had the lifeline of a friend far away, but he reeled that line back to safe ground in April. I guess I don't blame him. I'm a lot to handle.

I haven't known what I have wanted to say to my dad but I know he knows this and what I don't say is still conveyed.

The talks in the hospital did me good, did both of us good. I get tired of family saying, Say It Now. I know, I know, but it isn't always that easy. Sometimes the words just don't come out.

I read my friend's blog tonight, the guy that does everything really well, writing being one of them. He wrote about his father, a recent and precious exchange they had, and also of a gift bestowed, but more importantly, the chance they had, or took, to say things that all of us usually don't manage or have the chance, or find the time to say. I really wanted to tell my friend, (and even his dad), that I was proud of them, of THAT and what that means, but I couldn't find the words to even post a comment on my friend's touching story. But I am glad of all nights, I read his words tonight.

I sat across from my father on Sunday at the dining room table of his house. I knew my sister and mom had taken the kids purposely out of our way, to give us, (or maybe, me), the time I have needed alone with my dad.

I never thought I would have to ask my father if he wants to die, if he is holding on for us and doesn't want to, if he would rather just sleep but hasn't let go. He is ready, has made peace, but won't interfere with the higher power of God. This is my father. This is what he said. This wasn't a surprise, but I had to ask, had to ask for many reasons, especially wondering if he was holding on to be valiant, for me. My dad wants to let God control things but I know that is also hard. I think God has given my good father the chance to Say It All before he dies. We didn't do that all the time in my family. Maybe this is the time for all of us to Say It Now. The times we did this, I do remember, thankfully.

My dad impressed that he was proud of me. That he had raised two daughters so well that he can die now. Is happy at how blessed he was because of me and my sister. The things he says of my children are poetic, and he has loved having grandchildren beyond belief. He takes responsibility for them, (as he should). He was the man in my life that didn't leave, never would have.

When I don't think of what to say, I remember things that were done. One thing for example, small to some, but the world to me, was when my dad picked me up from Glendon Campus so I could come home weekends to work and just be off-campus and away from university. We would go first to the Keg, on the way home and obviously when I wasn't working there. It was just us. We didn't need an occasion, he just pulled off the highway some evenings and took his youngest daughter to dinner. I remember the table, the talks, and him.

So I continue to make up for things, lost words, lost hugs and am trying slowly do it in other aspects of my life. For now, my dad is the first priority, even when I have to let the mundane of my life take over for short bits of time. When we hugged good-bye, him on the chair, me standing over, sadly feeling the sharp shoulderblades of a frail back that used to be hard and strong, he kept my stare, and told me empathatically that he loved me, and I did the same.

Making up for anything lost doesn't take a lot when you mean it all.

from "9 Crimes", Damien Rice

Leave me out with the waste
This is not what I do
It's the wrong kind of place
to be thinking of you.
It's the wrong time
for somebody new
It's a small crime
and I've got no excuse
And is that alright with you?
Give my gun away when it's loaded,
Is that alright with you?
If you don't shoot it, how am I supposed to hold it?
Is that alright with you...............

The R Word

It's funny, but I don't even remember writing the last two blogs. It's now near the end of May and I haven't a clue where April went. March can go f--k itself. And it did. Certain people that shall remain nameless can also go f--k themselves. I think they're in that process.

Do I wish to live in the past? I could, if I wish to wallow in it with bad memories. I could, if I wish to cherish all the damn good.

There are more important things than his return/non-return, give-me-almost-nothing in return come back. (Which, really, who are we kidding, comeback it is not....) We both know what happened, how maybe some events changed things. My back and forth of "should I have gone to Whistler?" lingers but I don't like regrets. It's not because of me, his challenges and flaws. I won't regret us, I won't regret anything and everything I was with him and to him. As my dad just reminded me and as Frank Sinatra reminded him recently, "Regrets, I've had a few, but too few to mention."