I’ve been every where. I’ve felt the sweat of the south in the summer, I’ve seen the rain in the north during those beginning spring months, I’ve played in the snow in the north east at Christmas time, and I’ve come home to family and friends to raise my children. There is no place on this earth, that I’d rather be then here.
Right here. The place that I call home, the place that makes me feel whole and complete. But how come I feel like I’m about to lose it all again. It’s all about to be taken from me. Maybe not in an hour, a month, even a few years. But as every minute ticks away, I’m about to lose all the people that I’ve come home to.
I’ve got my mom’s dad, my grandpa in the hospital with a really bad blood infection that spread to his heart. His tired body has been trying to fight it for a couple of months and he took a turn for the worse. That is why the hospital has decided to keep him. With my mom and family to watch over him.
Then my mom gives me the news that my sister called worried about our dad, that he’s been coughing up blood and is sick. Did I mention my sister and my dad are over 3,000 miles away. My dad, having gone to the world trade center disaster, has no doubt ably left him with scares internally, not to mention, mentally. He has what they call the World Trade Center Cough, but refuses to seek medical treatment because he’s a stubborn ass and medical treatment isn’t exactly cheap in the states these days. I seen the coughing with my own two eyes when I lived down the street from him. How is weak body held back the fighting tiger inside, trying to make him do things his body just couldn’t do any more. Standing and breathing caused him physical pain. To picture your father, a man so strong and stable, leaning against the wall because breathing took his breath away, there are no words. What do you do? But die a little deep inside. Facing the fact that one day, he won’t be here. He won’t be here to give you the pep talk, to coach you through the bumps in the road, to kick you in the ass when your being stupid.
To my mother under going vigorous chemotherapy treatment as you read this. Medication killing her on the inside, to rid her exhausted body of the poison we call cancer. She just went through having both breast removed, burying her mother, adopting the care of her father. And as you can read in previous post, “The making of an angel”, she buried two son’s and gave birth to a still-born daughter.
I have to be strong. I have to be the rock. I have to shove the lump in my throat down, I have to suck up the tears and not let a single one spill out, back straight, eye contact straight head, leaning down to caress and soften the burdens. That’s my job, that’s my task, otherwise I just might come crashing down.
Look into her painful eyes, listen to his wheezing and staggered voice, watch him slowly make his way across the kitchen floor. I guess it’s all apart of growing up, it’s all apart of them getting old. I should count my blessings that I’m 30 years old and I have both sets of grandparents, both parents and my children got to meet and get to know their great-grandparents. But I’m not ready to let go yet. I’m not ready yet…Dammit! I just grew up a couple years ago, I know I want them now. It’s not late! PLEEEEASE Stop.