my dad

Visits with my dad of late seem to follow the same pattern.  I drop in.  He is asleep on the couch.  I sit down for a while.  He usually wakes up when I get up to leave.  His eyes open and blink a couple of times and then he forces himself to roll into a sitting upright position.  It takes a minute or more, but eventually he gets his feet on the floor and then he makes eye contact and smiles his broad, happy to see me smile.  He always has that smile when I visit him.

He asks how I am, I reply, ask how he is, he replies.  He always says he is good.

He asks about Jack, the kids, grandkids.  I tell him they are all good. 

Next he says he really misses Jessie and her family, those kids are so cute, do I think they'll ever move back, he guesses not because that's where the work is.  I agree with each of these statements as he says them.

Then he asks how I am.  How is Jack?  The kids?  Grandkids?  Next he says he really misses Jessie and her family, those kids are so cute, do I think they'll ever move back, he guesses not because that's where the work is.  I agree with each of these statements as he says them.

By now, he is more awake and asks what I've been doing lately.  Whatever I tell him about, he engages me in conversation.  He tells me stories from his childhood, his teens, his time in the Air Force during WWII.  He tells me about his mom, his siblings, his dad and other relatives.  He tells me about places he's been, adventures he's lived.  Sometimes they are stories I've heard all of my life, but often, they are new to me, yet warm and familiar to him.  Occasionally, he tells the same story that he's told me during previous visits, stories that might have some component of reality in them, but are partly fictional.  But not in his mind.  The story about the webcam at Shady Dell that shows the bear coming over the mountain every morning, crossing the river, eating his fill of berries and heading back over the mountain?  That one is as real as any other to him, though if we're being honest, it probably isn't very likely.  But really, what does it matter?  It is real to him.

~~~

Jack's mom called this morning.  Her mind seems to wander these days also.  This morning she told me a story I'd never heard before.  It took a while for me to birth Stuart.  It was a difficult, long delivery, all day and all night and immediately after he arrived, he was rushed to baby intensive care, while I was sent to recovery.  Jack's mom has often told me the story of arriving at the hospital and looking through the window of the baby intensive care unit, seeing her big man child in scrubs and a mask and hat, sitting in a rocking chair holding his tiny new baby boy.  She told me today that while she waited for Jack to come out to see her, my mom and dad arrived.  She will never forget my dad, exiting the elevator, looking around and asking, "where's my kid? where's my daughter?"

~~~

During our last visit, dad told me again about sitting every afternoon at 3:30 with his mother in their kitchen, drinking a cup of tea and how she would offer to read his tea leaves, tip his empty cup upside down into his saucer and then peer at them, pronouncing he had a long, happy life ahead of him.  I never saw that tea reading live, but I have heard him tell that story so many times it is as clear as anything in my mind.

Next he says he really misses Jessie and her family, those kids are so cute, do I think they'll ever move back, he guesses not because that's where the work is.  I agree with each of these statements as he says them.

He says he is ready for a nap and swings his legs up onto the couch and lays down again.  I tell him I'm leaving now, I love him, I'll see him again soon.  He says he loves me too, we kiss goodbye, and as I head towards the door, he calls out, "be careful crossing the street and don't eat any green apples."  Just like when I was a kid.