Year Four, Day 211: Blink of an Eye. My Father

"In the blink of an eye everything can change. So forgive often and love with all your heart. You may not have that chance again." Zig Ziglar

  

Saturday morning I was on my way to teach piano in Portland. Just stepped off the bus to grab my morning Starbucks. My phone rang. I saw my mother's name pop up on caller ID: "Gma" (for grandma.  I really should change it to "GG". She is a great grandma now!)

My heart paused in midbeat. I know my mother well. She does not usually call Saturday mornings. She knows I am getting ready to teach class.

So I answered. Her voice at first sounded pleasant. But I waited. Soon I heard a catch in her voice. It sounded like she was about to cry. She apologized. Said she was fine, just emotional. She was in her truck about to follow the ambulance to the hospital.

"Your father collapsed at the urgent care clinic this morning", she told me in a choked up voice. "He had a horrible cough. The advice nurse told me to take him to urgent care. He collapsed on the stretcher. His blood pressure plummeted."

I told her to drive carefully. She told me which hospital she would be at. I told her I would pray and then come to the hospital when I was done teaching. I had planned on going to the church to practice, which was just a few blocks from the hospital where he would be at.

It's funny how we can go on with our normal life in times of great stress.  I had a wonderful day teaching, but held my mom and dad in the back of my brain. And in my heart.

I had a feeling it might be the end for my dad. He just turned 80. He had a stroke two years ago. Then he was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease. And then cancer. 

Lately he had stopped talking. My mother, a retired nurse has been a stellar caregiver. But we all feel his clock ticking.

I suddenly felt a surge of love for my father.  It came up from the depths of my soul. I did not know it was there. My childhood was painful, due to difficult times with my father.  But now that he was helpless and dependent, I felt compassion towards him. I had seen recently how grateful he was to my mother for her care.  He had verbalized his gratitude at a recent family gathering. With tears in his eyes.  I don't think there was a dry eye at the table.

Forgiveness is deep. It can be painful. But so healing.  I am so happy that we are experiencing healing while he is still alive!

I called my mother later. She was at his bedside. The doctors had examined him. He had an x-ray. He was given IV fluids and then IV antibiotics once they discovered the pneumonia.  She said he was comfortable and resting.

I seriously felt like the end was near. She said they were keeping him overnight, but she was tired and going home.  We decided that I would come visit the next day after church.

I sent out prayer requests to my friends, family and churches. I put up a Facebook notice with my dad's picture and prayer request.  I slept fitfully, memories of my father filling my dreams. I woke up bright and early, bathed in sweat.  But surprisingly calm.  

I prayed again. I felt like I needed time with my dad. And that my mother was also not ready for him to go.

At church, I played the piano with more spirit than usual. This is a new church for me. They had a welcome potluck for me right after the service.  I gorged myself! Lutherans are famous for their potlucks:  Fried chicken, salads, a plethora of incredible casseroles and cake.  (Not pictured)

I probably should have passed on the cake. But I told myself that grief is taxing. I needed comfort.  Plus it was 11 a.m., within my eating window.

They gave me a beautiful potted plant with bright red flowers. I walked up the street after church to the hospital. My heart was racing.  I felt lightheaded.

It was probably the cake.

I found my father's room. I had texted my mother. She was waiting outside the door. She waved when I turned down the hallway.

"Your father is excited to see you", she said, smiling.

I gulped. Not sure what to expect when we entered the room.

I walked in with my plant. He was sitting up, eating his lunch.  He was smiling!  I don't recall the last time I saw my father smiling.

"That looks good!", I said nodding at his plate.

"Salmon and spinach!" he said with glee. Like a child.  "It's better than a restaurant!"

I told him the flowers were for him. I set the pot on a table near his bed. He put down his fork and gazed upon them.

"Those are nice", he said slowly. "Fall colors. Vibrant".

He looked up at me. His eyes glistened with tears.

I swallowed a lump in my throat and nodded.

We had a pleasant visit. I just want to say that again. My father and I had a pleasant visit!

 It was nice to just sit there and enjoy my father's joy.  I will always remember this visit. His nurse came in. She was lovely. From Russia, thick accent, beautiful smile. Quiet and compassionate.  She was obviously charmed by this sweet little older man. Otherwise known as my father. Someone I had feared as a child.  

But now. Just a sweet, bearded man, happily sitting up in his hospital bed, attached to IV's, enjoying his lunch.

Something loosened in my chest. This was forgiveness. This was love.

My mother hadn't eaten. So we left my dad in the capable hands of his nurse and headed out for a burger. For my mother. I was still stuffed. We had a nice visit. She told me of her adventure chasing the ambulance. She told me last night when she got home, she was so tired. But she felt like watching their favorite movie, "Runaway Jury". But she couldn't enjoy it. She kept looking at the empty chair. My father's chair.

I had a lump in my throat.  In a blink of an eye, that chair may be permanently empty. I am so grateful that it's not.

My father came home from the hospital today. My mother told me they are watching "Runaway Jury".  He is happy. He is talking.  He asked for ice cream.

Prayer is miraculous. 

Life is precious.

Happy Monday!

Love,

Zita

My Father

P.S. I'm still hooping! It is what keeps me vertical! Prayer keeps me sane. Here is my latest video: Day 166!