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People always said how much I looked like my dad; smiling blue irish eyes.
I had recovered pretty well on my drive home today. When Jim called me at work, and told me the news, all I could think of was "Hmm, I can't believe that I'm not *feeling* anything". That lasted for about 2 minutes after I hung up the phone, then my eyes started to fill, and I didn't know where to go. Just let me get on an empty elevator I thought, as I hurriedly left the ICU. There was a man on the elevator.."Oh damn..." It was the hospital priest, of all people! I kept my head down, my lips started to tremble... he said something to me as we were getting off the elevator. I didn't hear him, but I did feel his caring touch on my shoulder. I rounded the corner, saw a co-worker, and just cried my heart out. We sat for awhile in the office. A few other concerned co-workers came in to give me a hug. I gathered my things and drove home. Thinking. Calming down.
I knew it was coming. Eventually, my dad would die, and I would be faced with a new struggle. New, but not unfamiliar. I grew up loving my dad. I grew older hating my father. Anyone who has explored my web site may be familiar with the emotional struggles I have gone through because of him. Without going through that now, I have to deal with my own ghosts.
Life goes on.
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" If you are distressed by anything external, the pain is not due to the thing itself but to your own estimate of it; and this you have the power to revoke at any moment" ~Marcus Aurelius
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