The last week in August

This week has been a difficult one, aside from regular old errands and general busy-ness. Yesterday we attended the funeral of one of Husband's first cousins. She and two other men were killed late last Saturday night in a car accident when their vehicle struck a tree. Loss of life is never a fathomable event, but the real tragedy is that she left four children behind, all under the age of eleven. Incomprehensible. An event that forces you to stop dead in your tracks and look around at your loved ones with fresh eyes, holding them a little tighter and cherishing their voices a little more.

After her funeral I was able to run to a care meeting with the nursing home staff for my father. They couldn't provide us with many answers, as everything depends on what happens in the coming weeks, but they were approving of how far his physical therapy has come. He cannot walk without the aid of a walker, and even then not terribly far or unassisted, but it is leagues from paralyzation just less than two months ago. While I celebrate his progress, I also selfishly grieve for what was and will never again be. Hopefully, however, something new can grow out of this situation. A new, more easily accessibly home for my parents. A new, easier to reach future vacation spot where they can relax. New memories for our little family because he is still here, still vibrant.

The world is so unfair. A young mother is killed; a good man suffers from a debilitating illness, but finds a level of recovery. At the same time, the world is also the most fair place. No one is immune or special or chosen. Everyone is subject to fate or God or luck, wherever you find solace or answers.

Today my Dad will find out if he can get his IV line finally removed and switch to oral antibiotics. This will help determine a timeline for returning home. His physical therapist will also visit my parents' home on Monday for an evaluation - checking for what Dad can work on while he is still under their care to make it possible for him to navigate at home. I daresay it will involve many, many stairs.

Today is also his 71st birthday. He has endured so much pain and fear and uncertainty since his last birthday. But there has also been laughter and jokes and good memories. This year's celebration won't take place in a noisy restaurant with a big meal and gin and tonics for Dad and Husband. Instead, the four of us will gather to mark the occasion in his room at the nursing home with carry-out from a local firestation fish fry. And it will be wonderful.