25 June 2015 – Car in shop. Had to take train in to work this morning. Early early. All those half asleep faces. Everyone avoiding eye contact. The ride long and dull. Didn’t think to bring headphones. Don’t need them in the car. Where I get to listen to G’s CD mixes. All by myself. Loud as I want. Helps me forget the commute and keeps me from remembering how far we are apart.
Got off the train feeling slow and a little lonesome. Happens now and again. When time slows and the mind isn’t concentrating on what the hands are doing.
If your hands are busy so is your head. One of dad’s old sayings.
The other day he was sitting in his lounger making fists and exploding them. I’d brought him a glass of lemonade. Watched him make a few fists and blow them slowly apart. I asked if his hands were sore. He said no, they’re idle. I used his saying on him. If your hands are busy so is your head. He paused a second, as if to determine how the phrase was intended, then gave me a bright smile.
Things are getting easier. He’s moving about pretty well and doesn’t have too much pain. The hip has healed but there’s a long way to go with physio.
He’s joked that all the muscle in his right leg turned into a flat tire around his waist. I tell him he has chronic waisting disease.
Such is our approach to dealing with the rough spots in his recovery. Biggest hurdles: him having to let me care for him and him not being able to drive. He hated staying in the house all day. Had to drive him around and listen to him trying not to complain about this that and the other. Hella that. Being a mother hen to your own father. But we figured it out. Inch by inch.
Patience and acceptance.
Like this morning. At the train station. Moping to the bus stop. Standing there in an aggravated huff. Til I looked at my hands and practised making fists and exploding them. Worked wonders. Brought a quiet resolve to own the moment.
Instead of continuing to stand there waiting I chose to walk. Few cars. Not many people. Good time to be on the streets. Even downtown. Dispelled my slow blue mood straight away. And as I got close to the hospital saw the half moon low up there in my pale blue sky. Heard G saying, ‘Whenever you alight upon the moon I’ll be in your head.’
And he was. All day long. My thoughtfilled G.
Who for Christmas gave me two things. A bound and printed copy of a book he’d made of a journal he’d been keeping. And a notebook.
He called the book delivery. It’s the only copy. I almost fell into pieces.
The notebook, he explained, was for me to do something similar with. Or not. My choice.
It, the notebook, has been on my bedside table ever since. Until this evening I hadn’t even cracked it open.
Then today happened. Felt like the kind of day that starts something I want to remember.