Monday Monday

Holy frijoles, it's another glorious day here in southern New England. Cool air, no humidity, the sun is shining - just amazing!

I had a great time at the Bruce and Maritime museums. Just go peeps, they're a good time.

Dinner with the 'rents Saturday night, just the three of us for a change. Afterwards we went to Paradise - the bookstore. Barnes & Noble in Westport. We had coffee, bought books, just kinda hung out. A good time. When you were 12 or 15 or even 25, did you ever think the time would come when hanging out with your parents on a Saturday night would be a good time?

I only bought one book (yes, only one), "The Iranians". Dad looked at the title and said "We should all be reading that." I get to the counter and the clerk said the exact same thing. I haven't started it yet because I just started "Mayflower: A Story of Courage, Community, and War" on Thursday night.

Mom picked up books for the kids and Dad bought a Bible.

A Bible.

In late March he had an ocular stroke and another one recently. What's happening is that plaque is breaking off and going into his eye; if it went into the vessels in his brain, he'd have a cerebral stoke. He's lost about 25% of his vision in his left eye. He's dealing with the root-causes of the problem but his mind is, apparently, on something else, hence the Bible. Large print version.

Grandma's death in December of last year has thrown him out of sorts as well. Dealing with the loss of one parent is difficult enough, but when they're both gone, no matter how old you are, you end up feeling like an orphan. On top of that he's had to come face-to-face with his own mortality again. He's not in a good place, a happy place, and I'm not sure how to reach out to him. While he's mellowed alot with age, he's still not someone who wants anyone prying into how he's feeling. He's perfectly capable of taking care of himself, thank you. He can get really snotty if you push too hard. I understand. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

When my Mother was dying seven years ago he pretty much kept our large extended family at a distance, knowing I wouldn't want a whole bunch of people crowding me. "Call me if you need anything" he said. Had I, I would have. After she died, and we got through the funeral, Mom called to check up on me. She said my Father had mentioned he was very proud me. I laughed and what's there to be proud of? She said it was how well I had handled everything. I just said okay or something, but I didn't get it - still don't, really. It was my job to take care of my Mother. It wasn't hard - painful, but not hard, and I did the best I could. What else was I supposed to do? I don't explain this well. In any event, Christmas night I was at the 'rents house and, as usual, it was happy chaos for everyone. It wasn't an easy time for me and by the end of evening I had retreated to the dining room with a glass of wine. Not drinking it, just sort of fidgiting with it. Dad wandered past and then sat down and didn't say anything for a while. Eventually he said:

"Rough year."

"Yeah."

"It'll get better."

"Yeah."

Not exactly the pinnacle of touching, heart-felt, Father-Daughter conversations, but it helped, strange as that might seem.

I've never had a problem "being there" for family or friends - to hold a hand, to wipe the tears - I just can't deal with it when it's me. Afterall, like Grandma, like Dad, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thank you. So when it comes to Dad, I'm at a loss as to what to do because I know what he really wants is to be left alone.

When he was buying the Bible a lot of jokes went through my head. Dad's not the most religious of people - usually sacrilegous.

"A Bible?" I said.

"Can't read the one I've got." he answered. So many jokes went racing through my head... but I let them go.

"Where's your Grandmother's Bible?" he asked me.

"Um... I don't know." I was surprised he didn't know. "One of your siblings?" I asked.

"I guess. I'll ask Bill. Should have asked Mother for that before she died." he said. I just nodded my head, at a complete loss for words, and we went off to the check out.

I guess the answer is I need to hang out with Dad more often.

It's been a rough year.