The first of three major meetings about my father's prognosis has been scheduled for Memorial Day. What a day to have to think about your father's life. It makes me almost feel like the decisions have been made before they've even been discussed.
A large chunk of the family is coming home to specifically discuss these issues and to help my sister and I make some tough decisions. As I think about the prospects and as I go sit with him to visit with him, I am overwhelmed with memories.
I type as I sit in the home to where my parents retired a few years ago. It is hard for me to believe that just a couple of months ago, they were both sitting right here with me. Even my dog is confused. Every time we walk in the door, he takes off running to check every nook and cranny, trying to find them both. I am surrounded by pictures and my father's paintings.
The facility in which my father is being treated is in the city that he and my sister and I grew up. My mother grew up just a couple of miles away on a farm. The family legacy goes way back and glimpses are still visible despite years of "development."
Sitting with my father last night, I read him a chapter of Jane Eyre and then played part of the BBC version on YouTube. The first time it aired I was in town and my dad kept me up half the night watching it. It was one of our favorite things to do.
I long to make another trek to the Toledo Art Museum. I have spent my whole life going there with my father. I know all of his favorite paintings. We even took oil painting classes together.
I am watching Golden Girls as I type. We grew up watching this as a family. When reruns became prevalent on numerous stations, my father always had it on. I can hear him laughing a certain punchlines. He never got tired of the jokes.
I still want to make memories with my father. And I am hoping that these meetings will tell me that is still possible.