Saturday, September 12, 2009

He appears to be doing well. They had taken him off the ventilator and finally removed the tube. He even tried eating something, nothing too solid, just Italian ice and a little fruit. He is still really tired, not up for in depth conversation, but he’s making progress. I think many things when I look at him; he looks too frail, I almost lost my Dad, I now have more years to share more memories with him, he’s too frail, I hope he never has to go through this again, I’m so glad the surgery went great, he seems a bit frail….

The ring of my cell phone jolts me out of the continual rounding of my thoughts and it’s my four year old daughter, the youngest of six. “I love you Mama” followed quickly with “You comin’ home now?” I smile and tell her not quite yet, it will be a few more days. This is followed with “Is Papa still at the Doctor’s?” All she knows is that her Papa was sick and had to go to the hospital to get fixed up by the doctor. Papa is her hero, she loves her grandfather, absolutely adores him. I’m glad she’s only four because for her this event will be a story told, a past event, the real weight of it is something she will never have to carry. I hope she never has to be reintroduced to it by me. Sometimes it’s good to be young and naïve, and this is one of those times.