Monday, March 27, 2006

Inevitability
"Time rushes towards us with its hospital tray of infinitely varied narcotics, even while it is preparing us for its inevitably fatal operation."
Tennessee Williams

I don't answer my land line phone much anymore. I even abandoned caller ID because why have it when I'm not going to answer it anyway. 99.9% of the time it's someone calling form a call center somewhere wanting to survey me, sell me something or it's the umpteenth collection agency trying to collect a 7 year old bill for $58 that I never owed and will never pay. Never. Ever. Friends know to call me on my cell.

But when the phone rings at that time in the evening that makes you really question who's on the other end and your heart rate kicks up a notch, I will pick it up. Again, most times it's a telemarketer or the housekeeper calling to ask "You want me to come tomorrow?" The answer is always yes, by the way. Hell, if I could afford it, I'd have her come every day.... I'm not a slob, mind you, just incredibly lazy when it comes to domestic things.

I digress.

The other evening I was working away at the computer when the phone rang mid-evening. I hesitated for a second as I looked at the clock. I winced as I picked up the receiver - I didn't want to have to hang up on another telemarketer. But it was just late enough to make me question.

It was my brother calling. I immediately identified two reasons he could be calling - one) he's coming to visit or two).....

There are rites of passage we all experience as we make our way through life. Most of us will face in our lifetime one of the most difficult of passages. The loss of a parent.

I paid the first half of my dues to that club a few years ago when my mother finally let go her struggle. No matter how much you try to prepare - it's insufficient. It's a hole that can never be filled. Time does bring an ease to the ache, but there's an ever present twinge at the edge of your heart...

We got the niceties out of the way quickly and then my brother got to meat of the call. My father was put into assisted living the night before. Assisted living = euphemism for nursing home. That was the beginning of the end with my mother.

Now my father is a fighter - and my brother said he was pretty darn mad. Which was a good sign. When I called him the next day it was evident his mind is still crystal clear and his attitude was what you could call "chipper." But his body... well 89 years is a long time. And so we enter a waiting period of a few weeks before we know what the next step will be. There may be surgery or it may be refused. Whatever will be his wishes.

I've cushioned myself with with a goodly amount of a child's denial. But the reality is, my father has now entered his own rite of passage, the ultimate rite of passage I guess you could say, and I'm utterly powerless. I can't stop time, can I?
Posted at 12:59 AM | |