Hanging With The Padre It’s a shock to see my father shrinking. He’s about to go to bed and his pajamas are floating over his frame. ___ ____ I won’t write a long Bedtime Story tonight. It’s been one of those days. There are a lot of you who are keeping up with my father through these Bedtime Stories and it is for you that I write tonight. His health is in a transition. I mark Sunday as the day he dropped from a plateau. His lower legs are collecting fluid, which isn’t a good sign. He’s not in a lot of pain yet. He’s a little loopy, memory wise, but it’s mostly adorable. One of the nice surprises about all this is to find out that he really is what I always thought he was. For most of us, it doesn’t take much for us to reveal our small selves. About a week ago I found myself swearing up a storm in the shop, just mad as hell at some wood that wasn’t cooperating. Here’s The Padre, facing the adios end of life, with plenty to complain about, yet he remains as gentle and consistent as he was in the prime of his life. _____ _____ I just tucked him in. On his bedside table is his cell phone (the flip kind that was state of the art back when Bush was still President), his wallet and a couple of cough drops. He really does say a little prayer before he goes to bed. It felt like he forgot that I was there and the prayer seemed like an old conversation between Father and son. With so much to pray for I found him genuinely grateful. And there’s this line, “If I’ve disappointed You in any way, please forgive me.” I think he had a clean slate today. ______ _____ I don’t know if this qualifies as a Bedtime Story, but if it does, it’s brought to you by Eighty-one, which wishes you all a Goodnight y’all.
Posted on: Sat, 03 Jan 2015 04:29:05 +0000
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