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ILOVEMALI
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Schizogirl

Monday, November 19, 2012

I am a person who strives for equanimity.

I feel like my entire life is a yo-yo. Saturday was an up day. Yesterday became terrible. My mom called just as I was on my way to Job 2 to tell me that my dad was having a bad weekend. She described a man who is totally absent. He is stopping eating. Only sleeping. This sounds like a dying man to me. I was cashiering and my sister came through my line with a purchase (this is a big surprise. I knew that she had spent the weekend at my folks' house, but in all the years that I've worked at J#2, she had only been by once on her way passing through). As soon as I saw her, I asked her if she thought that he was dying. Not sure, but he's really bad. I just saw him on Monday. This is a big change.

I tried to concentrate on my job for a while, and ended up requesting a break so I could call my mom. Went into the break room where I called my mother, determined that he is not going to die imminently, blindly ate some cookies that were on the table as I was on the phone with my mom, and went back to work.

At my lunch break from work, I called my husband, blindly ate a bunch of cookies as I was talking to him, and went back to work.

On my final break, I was discussing the entire thing with one of my managers (as I blindly you-know-what).

So, as I was blindly eating anything that got into my way yesterday, this is what I found out:

For the past several months, as my father is slowly disappearing, I have been wondering if, when he is gone, I will miss him any more that I do now. After all, he is barely here now. The answer is -- Yes.

I keep saying that he is still in there somewhere. We took him to a neurologist a few weeks ago, and, as part of the neurological exam (which he was failing miserably), I asked him what my name was. He immediately gave me a beautiful smile and said, "you're beautiful!" When the doctor came in to examine him, she asked him what my name was, and he replied -- with that beautiful smile again --"that's my daughter!" While I'm not sure that he can dredge my name up from the depths of confusion, my question was answered -- no, I'm not simply "someone important in his life" -- he knows who I am. He knows who my mother is, and, when he is present, says that he loves her and that he is so thankful for her. Unfortunately, he thinks that my sister is his sister; I don't know who he thinks that my brother is; he doesn't know who my kids are, or who my husband is. He knows that all of us are important people to him. And he still sees Me.

Any dad/daughter baggage that I sometimes carry around with me is left at the station.

When he is gone, I will miss him more than I do now.
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