I rode my bike 9 miles tonight to clear my head. To clear my head of the worst case scenarios that had been rendering me blind all day of everything positive in my life.
Biking and running allow me to have a different perspective both in thought and in how I take in my surroundings. Tonight while I was biking, I saw a small rabbit scamper off the trail and into the tall grass. I enjoyed hearing the varying bird calls in the treetops and the rush of cattails as the wind blew. I noted the musk of freshly tilled earth and cut grass.
Every few minutes my mind would wander back to the harsh reality that I faced earlier in the day. I called my mom in the morning to see when she might be coming to the house. I heard my dad in the background and she answered his questions and returned to our conversation to tell me she was concerned with my dad's incoherence. This has been weighing heavily on all of us for the past couple months. Dad has always been active and been conscientious of his health. I was bursting with pride when he took home a medal for winning his age group for walking a 5K a mere 8 months after breaking his neck.
Lately, my dad just hasn't been my dad. On my ride I thought of how my dad has always enjoyed walking and appreciating the beauty nature has to offer. This thought brought me to tears. I thought of the many walks we shared in his hometown of Lapeer at Thanksgiving when we visited Grandma. I was silently praying and thanking God for all the fascinating and funny stories Dad has shared throughout the years of his childhood. I remembered how he said their family fared better than most during World War II because his father was an attorney and some clients would pay with rations of food. I was thankful for all the long trips my dad has taken to provide me with much needed love and comfort. He drove nearly 800 miles round trip when I was in college to ease my homesick heart. He hopped on a plane and flew more than 2000 miles to calm my fears while I was going through a tumultuous divorce. He hugged me and walked with me as I suffered through post-partum depression after the birth of my second son.
This morning, I had to be the one providing comfort. It was excruciatingly painful to hold my mom while she sobbed and said more than once that Dad just isn't himself anymore. My heart weighs heavily and there is an ache in my throat from fighting tears. I've frequently told my boys that they are blessed to have so many loving grandparents in their lives and they should listen closely to what they have to say and enjoy their time with them. I also believe whole-heartedly in allowing my children to be spoiled by their grandparents because I missed having that kind of relationship.
My heart still weighs heavily and the ache is dull, but I feel better taking inventory of how I have been blessed. Tomorrow marks another chapter in all of my family's lives as Mom takes Dad to the doctor to be evaluated for dementia. Mortality is a difficult reality to accept when it comes so close to home. Today is a reminder to hold those you love close and enjoy the time you share.
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