Text: (from a friend to me)

Friend:  Hey!  Just checking in.  How is your Dad?  How are you?

Me:  Holding steady.  Dad’s been pretty weak, fell, but luckily wasn’t hurt.  Steroids decreased to address weakness.  Headed w/ my crew to see Nana & Papa this evening.

My Reflections:

We plan to go to Nana & Papa’s place for dinner & a visit this evening.  In the morning, I see a friend and mention this to her.  She comments that as hard as these present circumstances are, how special it must be to have these times to visit together as a family.  For a brief second I just look at her and pause, not sure of how to respond, then opt for a half-hearted smile & nod, uttering an “uh, huh” or similar agreement.  Yet I feel the fraud and can’t help but wonder how much my friend’s image of our visits with Papa would contrast with reality…. what she would say if she really knew what it was like.

I can imagine how it might seem to someone from the outside, us gathering with Papa for a warm and endearing visit, sharing fun memories, the boys acting silly, us all laughing together.  Just talking life and being together and appreciating the present gift of the moment.

But that’s just not the way it looks like right now, our visits together with Papa.  And it’s hard to explain the reality of it all in a brief, passing conversation, to a well-meaning & dear friend who’s just trying to be encouraging.

And that’s why I nod and just imagine what it could be, rather than the reality of what it is.

And what is “it” today, the reality of a family visit together?

Well, this evening it looks something like this:

Our boys playing Wii while Papa rests nearby in his recliner, J & I trying to come up with small talk, but Papa being too tired to respond much to what we say.  Papa seeming more annoyed than happy with the presence of his grandsons.

Dinner around the table together, Papa taking a few clumsy bites of his food and then staring off into space, seemingly unaware of our presence, seeming far-off in thought or just not quite “all there” (or rather here).  Us awkwardly sitting there, talking with Nana and the boys getting restless and just wanting to go off and play.

Like a visit you’d take to see an elderly grandparent, or even a great-grandparent, in a nursing home, with one-sided conversation, and awkward pauses, and a loss for what to say next; finally patting them on the hand, kissing them on the cheek, and saying “see you next time,” before you make your exit out the door.

Except we’re not visiting a great-grandparent or even a grandparent, we’re visiting my dad, Papa.  Who literally weeks ago would have been speaking coherently, quite the conversationalist, and walking about, not shuffling his feet in a wheelchair. He would be eating, no problem too, and looking at us rather than into the great beyond.

So this is what our special time together looks like today.

I’m glad we came, yet it’s hard.  It’s important to be here, yet I wonder if it really even matters to Papa that we came.

We say our goodbyes and I blink back tears on the ride home, wondering  what the next day, and weeks, and months may bring.

(quote & composition by Mark)