First of all, thank you to everyone that has checked in with me about my dad. It's been a long and frustrating journey because his condition has not improved much, and we still don't have the answers we hoped for after a month. He is still at Barnes, and he still has many issues that we hope to be resolved, but we know he will never be the same man he was before all of this. His mind is not the same and his body is weak. This is not the way he would want to live. It's completely unfair but this is what's happening and we are all dealing with it in the best way we can.
Since I can't ever truly articulate my feelings verbally to people, I usually write them down. That's the main reason I have a blog. When I get inspired, I write it down. Sometimes I share it, but sometimes I just have it in a notebook in my purse or notes on my phone. Most of my thoughts never get out of my notes. I have lots of pages of words and no one but I will ever know what they all mean. In the last few weeks, I've been writing down some things that I've missed about my dad that I took for granted.
My dad drove by North Side every single day to make sure that I made it to work safely. If my car wasn't in my parking spot, then you better believe I was getting a phone call to make sure I was not sick. I've always thought that was so unnecessary. Until now.
My dad asked me about my class every single time I saw him. Without fail, he checked in to make sure my kids were treating me well at school, and he asked if I was having a good school year. He listened to my stories about my class. I never realized how much that little conversation meant. Until now.
If you know me, you know that I'm EXTREMELY sentimental. I have saved an unreasonable amount of stuff for my kids to go through someday. I have made scrapbooks, slide shows, notebooks, and photo albums of memories. I've never thought of anyone else in my family to be as sentimental as I am. Last week my mom gave me a poem that my dad has carried in his wallet since 1990. It was a poem that I wrote about my grandma when she died. I honestly didn't know he ever read my poems let alone kept one in his wallet for all these years. I figured out where I got my sentimental side from.
Throughout all of this, I've said my dad still knows me. Deep down, I'm not sure I completely believed that. Yesterday as I was leaving my dad I bent down to give him a kiss. He kissed me back and mouthed "I love you" to me. The little things become the biggest things.