Archives for February 2014

Editor’s note: The post below first ran here. Last night I found out that my dad’s kidneys have mutinied and he’ll either need a transplant or dialysis. It is not a death sentence, but it is not good and it reminded me of my dad’s heart attack. The old man ended up on life support, thankfully he didn’t die.

That time of my life was a big part of the impetus that turned me into a blogger. The experience changed me and I am not who I was, that is not supposed to be good or bad, just a comment about what is.

His health news is what prompted this post. It is also a reminder to myself to push harder to make the changes in my life that have to be made. Our time here is too short to waste.

Five Minutes

I find people to be…fascinating. They are endlessly amusing creatures who like to think that the things that they do are based upon logic and reason, yet they aren’t. They rarely do anything that isn’t arbitrary in nature. We don’t like to admit these things. We don’t like stare at our own foibles or accept our own mortality.

It is late afternoon and I am seated on an American Airlines airplane waiting to fly back to Los Angeles. The seat belt sign is on and the flight attendants are preparing for takeoff.

My toe is tapping and my knuckles are turning white from gripping the seat. For a moment I wonder if I can crush the armrest with nothing but my fingertips. I am trying hard to think about anything and everything other than my father.

He lies unconscious in a hospital bed some 30 miles away from the airport. He is being kept alive by machines and medication. The flight home will take almost six hours and it is possible that he will die while I am in the air.

A short time earlier I sat next to his bed and spoke softly to him. In the midst of the beeps, clicks, clacks and whirling noises made by the machines that keep him alive I told him about his grandson and reminded him that his daughter-in-law is pregnant

Asked him to wake up for me, begged him to open his eyes and acknowledge me. Asked him not to die because I needed him. Told him that I want him to celebrate my 35th birthday with me and squeezed his hand, but he didn’t squeeze it back.

The captain makes a few announcements but I can barely focus. I don’t know what to do. I am not panicking because dad wouldn’t panic and so I won’t. But he is unconscious and I can’t do anything to help save his life- not from 3,000 miles away.

I close my eyes and think of my son. He is almost 3.5 and I can’t believe that there is a chance that my father will die before they really get to know each other. I can’t believe that he might not get to meet the baby who is yet to come.

Dad is a huge presence in my life and always has been. I feel guilty leaving him. I feel guilty leaving mom there. I hadn’t realized until this moment that he was/is human.

But I can’t stay. I am a father and I learned from my dad that I have to take care of my family. My grandparents don’t know how serious this is. I didn’t tell them that I wasn’t sure if he would survive long enough for me to fly out and now I have to do it all over again.

I remember telling dad and grandpa about my uncle dying. I remember the pain in my father’s eyes and how I made grandpa cry. I told him that his youngest son was dead. Am I going to be forced to tell him about his oldest too.

The plane pulls away from the gate and begins to taxi towards the runway. For a moment I consider jumping out of my seat and demanding that they let me go. I am sitting close to and emergency exit. I calculate the distance between the door and my seat, figure that I can get there fast enough to open it and jump.

It is crazy and I know it. But my father might die. There is a voice telling me that I am betraying him by not being by his side.

He wouldn’t have left me. That is not how our family works. I am the only son. I know him differently than my sisters. My grandfather wouldn’t leave me either. I can see him crying, can hear grandma say no. The moment haunts me. It is one of a few that stick with me.

The engines roar and as the plane gains speed I am pressed back into my seat. Now all I can do is wait and make silent promises to the future.

Tonight I take you back to a post from August 7, 2004:

I am still responsible for three 90 year-old grandparents and two households, not to mention an infant, a 3.5 year-old, wife, mortgage, the war in Iraq and the capture of OBL. Ok, that is an exaggeration too, perhaps I am more prone to hyperbole than I thought. Baby is crying, time to run.

If you have been around since the beginning you may have read the words above before. You might have read Life Is Challenging and seen these:

It was April 30th and I caught an early morning flight to New Jersey. I got on a plane not knowing if my father would still be living when I arrived and the knowledge of all of the responsibilities left behind.

You might remember the weight I felt and how I was worried not just about losing my father but having to tell my grandfather that his oldest son had died. It was exceptionally hard telling him about my uncle’s death and the thought of having to do it about my father was crushing. I felt like the Angel of Death but I got lucky and all I had to tell my grandfather was that dad had beaten the odds and was coming home.

What Is A Father’s Responsibility?

My father’s health issues didn’t end there. Even though he made this miraculous recovery the weight of watching his own father deteriorate and slip away was too much and he let himself go.

I have been thinking about this quite a bit. Been looking in the mirror at myself and thinking about my responsibilities to myself and to my family.

Been thinking about it because dad’s kidneys are failing and unless there is some sort of miracle dialysis or a transplant are in the future.

Been thinking about it because what happens to him should be a wake up call and warning to me. I wrote about it in Do What You Were Born To Do.

Was brutally honest about my own shortcomings there. Talked about how I punished myself and shared my concerns for my father’s health and wondered if I should be pushing him to do more to take care of himself.

I didn’t because I didn’t think it would help. I believed he would have to figure it out and decide it was too important to let go. Saw him make an effort several times but he never sustained it.

And I didn’t push because I was so caught up in my own mess that I had little to give. Was hard enough to keep pushing for the kids but I did it because they deserved it.

Still part of me feels a bit guilty because I wonder if I could have made things better. Wonder if I could have given him the kick in the ass that would have woken him up.

Where Is Your Focus?

Flip through the pages here and you’ll find lots of letters to my children and lots of talk about lots of different things. You might find some goofy headlines like Cheaper Than A $5 Whore With Less Risk of Infection or Jesus Hates Tim Tebow & 17 Other Reasons Why Your Blog is a Failure and wonder what is going on with me but I am cool with that.

Because as you go through you’ll come across things like The Most Important Things In Life,  Your Blog Bores Me and He Didn’t Die  you’ll see that I learned an awful lot from life.

I learned how to identify and distinguish between what I want and what I need. I learned to take time to slow down and enjoy the journey and forgive myself for not being able to win every battle or overcome every challenge.

And in the process I think I have become a better father. I think my children have benefited from it all and that has always been a goal.

When I think about what I owe my children I look at what my parents have given me and think about my own father as a role model. In most ways dad has been outstanding but he has fallen short in taking care of himself and that is one thing I can’t do to my children.

It is part of why I told them that I need a minimum of 20 minutes every day to exercise because I owe them a father who is healthy and one who shows them the important of regular exercise.

And now if you come closer I’ll tell you I am really worried about my dad. I am not just a father, I am a son too.