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Tuesday, March 15, 2005

Good bye Dad, We Hardly Knew Ya 

I sat here a bit wondering what to write. But what does a person write while waiting for a parent to die? Dad's been on a hospice program for well over a year. He's 82 and all too near 83 years old. So it's not like we haven't been expecting his visit from "The Big D".
But it's close, now. Oh so ever near to happening. And though I didn't think I'd be this way, it's all I've really been thinking about while I'm not concentrating on work. Or helping Alex with her homework, or cooking dinner, or taking Marc to the airport, or trying to escape into a good French film.
I know I'm rambling.

I want to ramble.
I think it helps.

Mom called last night to tell me that Dad's kidneys have failed him. Expected. It just goes with the territory. He's not eaten nor has he had much to drink since two Saturdays ago. What's it like to not eat for over a week? Does he even care?

Did he know it was me, when I visited this week and I could actually feel him holding my hand when I told him I loved him?
Did I tell him that for him or for me?

I didn't wish him a swift death and a ride to heaven. I don't believe in heaven. So I just wished him comfort and he really did look comfortable and out of pain.

I worked today. Terrible T called me a number of times. Every God Damned time the phone vibrated I figured that it was my Mom calling. She could be trying to call me this very second, to give me the news. But I'm tying up the line. And I'm charging the cell phone... and it's off.

Is Dad dying this very moment, or will he last a few more miserable days? Hopefully, not miserable for him. But certainly for us.

Tomorrow, I'm back to work. To try to keep my mind on my work and feel for the tell-tale vibratory buzz of my Motorola V-Something-or-other. The inevitable call.

Right now I want to sleep for a few days. But duty calls. Alex needs a bath and Ivette needs me to show up for my participants tomorrow... bright and early with a smile on my face.

I saw Wil Wheaton acting out a part as a crazy homeless man, a few days (or was it years?) ago. Great job. But I wonder if I could do better.
I'm an Ac-tor!
Every day I show up for a class I play the "happy-go-lucky corporate trainer" who thinks the company he works for is the cat's pajamas and that all of his students are the brightest and the best of the best even when they don't know their computer mouse from a fluffy cloud.

Sometimes I really could not care less. Luckily, this week, the students are catching on quicker than I'd expected. And Ana's kinda cute. And I love the way one of Jo's eyes is often looking off in another direction.

I wish I could look in some some other direction, right now.

My eyes are burning. Am I just tired, or did I stare at the sun, again?

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