Normally words flow freely from my head and heart, but today, they've failed me. Sometimes I struggle with the words to use or how to phrase an idea, but that is not the case. I simply don't know what to say because I don't know what is going on. What we thought was a reaction to medication is looking more like something else...we just don't know what that something else is. The edema is spreading and the urine output is nonexistent. His billy-rubin levels are high, and his breathing is heavy due to the build up of fluid in his body. I desperately want to hope that he'll get better, but I'm not so sure. I'm not sure at all.
It's easy to take care of someone when they are getting better, recovering, but the last couple of days have been the most difficult. Sherry and I are thankful for the good days we've had; they were full of laughs. But when the laughter ceases, the difficulty begins.
I stayed at dad's house last night, in his bed to be exact, and all around me were pieces of him. It was so weird to think that he wouldn't use these things again. The idea of death still doesn't make a lick of sense to me. I get the whole fall of man and temporal body, but it just doesn't compute. How can someone be there one day and not the next?
Mike Carraway is a friend of my dad's and at lunch the other day he told me that he was certain of my dad's eternity. A few months ago, he had a conversation with dad about Jesus and all things Heavenly, and he walked away from that conversation with confidence that dad believed in his heart that Jesus Christ lived, died, and defeated death for his salvation. Of course I wish that I could have had that conversation and certainty, but I'm hopeful that God answered my prayer through Mike, my prayer for peace (not only for my dad, but also for myself). The truth is that you can never really know where someone else stands, except when we arrive there ourselves. When I approach the pearly gates, assuming they exist, I expect to see my dad there waiting for me. Not sure what heaven is like, but I believe we our still ourselves, just not in these broken bodies. We have to be; we have to recognize the people who have touched our lives, who've made us who was are in this world. Imagine a world without chaos, without the complications of sin, disease, and misfortune...I know I can't. Those concepts evade me, but I trust that it's there and it will be perfect, peaceful, and exciting.
I know I need to put something on Dad's blog, but I really don't know what to say. The people that read his blog are connected to him, care about him, and inspired by him. They are survivers, caretakers, and fellow warriors. How do you tell them that he is losing the battle they all hope to win? Dad writes to them in the positive, glass half full approach, and right now, nothing I have to say is positive. But I could be wrong too. I don't think I am, but I could be. So what if I get them all worked up, just to find that I was wrong? I guess then I would have some good news to write, huh? Maybe I'll find the words a little later today, but for now, it took everything I had to just write this.
I'm Not A Stalker, Just A Fan
1 year ago