The night I got married, my father had to be taken to a hospital. He was having trouble breathing. No longer was he the invincible man, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound, able to outrun a locomotive. He was a man, a vulnerable man, afraid to die. His eyes were wide with fear when he said to me, "I think I had a heart attack."
I was a drunken sot, thanks to a night of open bar and that special concoction they make in Maui, the name of which I'll recall later. When I met up with my new wife in the hotel room, I had been crying like a colicky newborn baby. Thank goodness she didn't annul the marriage right there.
As it turns out, he just had the flu. But my perception of my father was changed forever. I knew now that he would die someday, as ridiculously obvious as that revelation seems. And as little as I rely on him for anything more than a pat on the back, which still puffs me up like dry sponge dipped in water, he won't be around forever to lean on.
So my heart goes out to my friend whom I've never met in person, who nonetheless has encouraged me in so many ways to be a writer, and is an inspiration to a great many others as well.
I'm sorry for your loss Janey.
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3 comments:
It's strange that mortality should be part of life. But none the less it is. It smacks us hard and without recourse.
((hugs)) to your friend Janey, and peace to her and her family.
I can't remember when my father went to all knowing benefactor to a man who was just as in the dark as I was.
But I haven't had to deal with him getting really ill yet.
Big shout out to Janey.
I remember clearly the first time I saw my father stipped of that invincibility. It's hard to take in. My thoughts are with your friend.
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