When I asked Dad where he would like to go most out of all the places in the world, he told me Switzerland. He always wanted to climb a mountain there, take a deep breath of fresh air, and look deep into the soul of a panoramic reality that used to only exist in free calendars given out by our local auto body shop.
February, May, and November. I remember pages carefully cut out and taped onto the walls of the run-down market Dad and Mom used to run, working 12 hours a day, everyday. Like windows into dreams that could have been, the contrast between what was real and what was not was so drastic, it was almost a joke.
If I had the money and he had the health, life would be so much more fair.
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Mom:
These days, I keep getting an urge to clean out your father's closet. Give away his clothes. Throw away things he doesn't use anymore. Get ready.
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Me:
Get ready?
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Mom:
I keep getting this urge to start getting ready.
It’s not that I am afraid of death. I’m just afraid of, well, void. Tell me, what happens when I need to ask you a question and you’re not there? You’re not there when you always always were. What happens when I can’t help fulfill dreams you’ve waited a lifetime to reach: walking me down the aisle (we practiced our father-daughter dance since I was six), playing with grandchildren, and traveling overseas with Mom as a smelly old couple? What happens when I miss you? How does one fill a void so very important and so very unique?
Right now, all signs point downward. And I wish I had enough spiritual faith to invest my emotions on a sign more optimistic, but I don’t. Ironically, the genuine hunger for prayer seems to have flown out the window, faster than your ability to lead a life we view as normal.
God, if anything I say to you is sincere, it’s this: please do something spectacular.
Haven’t heard coughing yet. I think I’ll give him another cup of tea before bed.
Dad slurped down a bowl of carrot ginger soup with a slice of whole wheat bread an hour ago. He topped the snack off with an 8 oz. cup of hot tea. Coughing has lessened considerably. He’s just hanging out at the moment, completely immersed in Korean dramas. He’s content.
We’ll see how he feels later this evening.
I was surfing the web this morning, in search of simple remedies for some seriously sticky situations like Dad’s mucus buildup. I swear he coughs up a gallon of sputum a day. I found this page to be quite helpful, although there were a few contradicting elements that left me scratching my head (i.e. warm soups and teas were recommended on the site, but we were told elsewhere that Dad should stay from consuming anything warm due to his orthostatic hypotension.)
I still wanted to give Hegwood’s advice a shot though. With that said, I’ll say this: my wallet’s soul has been sucked dry. Apparent worth of soul=$40. Here was today’s shopping list.
- Sweet Potato Bisque (Trader Joe’s)
- Organic Butternut Squash Soup (Trader Joe’s)
- Carrot Ginger Soup (Trader Joe’s)
- Lemons
- Oranges
- Pineapples
- 1/2 lb of Vanilla/Zingiber Ginger Coconut Rooibos Tea (Teavana)
- a loaf of whole wheat bread
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Mom:
Your dad almost died last night.
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Me:
He did? How??
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Mom:
He was choking on his own mucus.
