Stream of Consciousness Sunday

I went to see my Daddy today. he’s in the hospital again and they finally moved him to the floor after a week of being in the ICU.

Each time I go to see him, I’m never sure what to expect. if I strictly listened to my mother, I would expect miracles an alertness and just great improvement. But I always read between the lines and the truth comes out somewhere in the middle. My daddy was always such a FORCE. I say that because he could walk into a room and take over. Not by anything he said( even though he was so so so so talkative) but by his very presence. he is one of those people who always seemed to draw people to him. He was charismatic. Larger than life. And now…

It’s hard for me to see him just lying in the bed, helpless, unable to move, to talk. I miss hearing that big booming laugh. I miss that great smile. I miss hearing “there’s my Shawn Shawn. There’s my big girl. Come give me a kiss. ” I miss when I would never be able to wrap my arms around him because he was so big. My daddy teddy bear. Now, I can pick him up if I had too.

He is so frail.

I miss the mischievous look he would get in his eye while he would tell me a joke, or some bit of gossip. I miss talking politics with him or even hearing him scream at the TV in frustration at what ever the Redskins were doing.

I’m so afraid that he will never be the same.

I am so afraid because I know he will never be the same.

There are times when I wish he had died with the first stroke.  Because then I could remember him as that big strong man. .  That larger than life person.

I am not afraid to say that I have pleaded with God to ease him, to stop his suffering. Because he suffers. Today, he pulled out his feeding tube while I took my mother to lunch. We came back and I knew something was wrong by the look on his face. When we asked him what was wrong, tears came to his eyes and my daddy looked so sad. I looked down and they had him in restraints. As a nurse, I understood why, but as his daughter, I held his hand and I wanted to weep, beat my hands on the floor, cry to God and ask WHY  WHY WHY? What did he do? Why can’t you just help him get well? Why does he have to suffer?

I am helpless, I am tired. I just want to hear him laugh. I just want to see him smile. I just want to hear him say “Love you! ” One more time.

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  This post is a Stream of Consciousness. Set the timer for 5 minutes. Write. Don’t edit. Publish.