My dad was sick. Seriously. We're talking long-term ICU, call my sister in from out-of-town, daily up and down, "Will he live through THIS night?" sick. Everyone in the immediate family was doing their best to support/manage/cope/not kill each other under the stress. Talk about a microcosm of my family's historical existence all happening during that week and a half. Old roles were being assumed, unwillingly, by all. New ones were being eyed suspiciously, reluctantly, by same.
In the midst of it all, Dad, in his multi-pharmaceutical and disease induced stupor, managed to communicate rather clearly that the previous day had been the 60th anniversary of his and my mother's first date back in Lincoln, Nebraska when this Mid-western local kid noticed the hot new red-headed import from eastern New Mexico and asked her out.
The drama has played itself out and everyone has picked up the reins of their own lives and rejoined life in a parallel universe without Daddy. Despite disagreements and shortcomings real or imagined, he lived the message of 1 Corinthians 13 - and was loved for it.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
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