Whoa, as the dudes say. Here I am again, in my parents' house, supervising our currently rather wet Donkey and a Half. I got back from Edinburgh late on Sunday after handing off the Pater to Brother. Brother was good. It's true he is not the best communicator and has a touch of the curmudgeon about him, in some ways, but he is Good in Crisis, and was very kind to Da, using his fatherly skills to help him on with his shoes and sit in his chair. Da was pleased to see us. We brought him for a spin in a wheelchair out to sit in the shade of a conveniently planted tree in the entrance to the hospital. Then I split, feeling hollow, to go back to Dublin on the red-eye Ryan.air flight, and somehow after a strange week at home in Dublin, I am back here now, as if spun off a wildly girating carousel. It's raining steadily and the temperature has plunged by 15 degrees. I can hear thunder, I think.
Here I am again, indeed. Ma went the Lothian way last night once more - the hope is that an ambulance will be arranged to repatriate Da (yes, this is the rather dramatic term for it, though it may seem more appropriate for war criminals or recently released POWs) by ambulance sometime next week.
And we are getting used to the idea of this stroke. Although a voice in my head still says, as I walk by my father's car, say, or see the vegetables he planted this year: I hope he can drive again. I hope he can garden again. And I realise how much my father is a part of everything here, that he is in every tiny blade of grass on the land, and every scrap of paper in this house. I am so sad that he is unable to walk, or smile or get up, and that he's far from home. I'm sad that he is afraid. And I'm afraid too.
It's quite amazing what people say to you. Of course I know they mean well. I say these things too, or I did. I am going to stop now, and just listen when someone needs to tell me that they are sad that something has happened to someone they love. I am not going to cheer them up with all the wonderful, positive, blessings in disguise. I am just going to bite my lip to keep all my platitudes in, and listen.
It's quite amazing what people say to you. Of course I know they mean well. I say these things too, or I did. I am going to stop now, and just listen when someone needs to tell me that they are sad that something has happened to someone they love. I am not going to cheer them up with all the wonderful, positive, blessings in disguise. I am just going to bite my lip to keep all my platitudes in, and listen.
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