It's been a rough week for Dad and Carmen. Dad had chemo last Friday and did okay for the week end, but since Monday, he's been sick. Carmen had chemo Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday and she's not feeling well. Duh.
They are such an important part of my life today and my history, I'm having trouble even contemplating their mortality. I understand that, logically, none of us has a lock on life, and life could be over for any one of us at any moment. But my heart is screaming, stop this nonsense, they just planted new trees and they need to see how that adventure turns out. They have grandchildren and great grandchildren who are still babies, what about them.
The tears have come easy for me this week. There is always hope for a miracle. But perhaps the journey they are on and the example they present during this difficult time is more important than any miracle. Carmen's cancer is responding to chemo, but the doc said Dad has months. I hate it when doctors quantify life that way. And maybe the chemo will help him. And there's always the miracle thing. I don't know.
So I take them food. Cinnamon rolls, peach cobbler, an occasional dinner. Because I must do something. Yesterday Dad was feeling so bad. He finally let me do a little energy work on his belly. I have been doing guerrilla energy work on him and last night, I worked on him again. Carmen has been letting me do a little massage and energy work on her some evenings. Hands on is easier. And they fill my prayers.
If you gotta do something, too, add them to your prayers often. Write them notes and cards and express your love, share a memory, send a picture of you and your family. Have your little ones draw them pictures. Tootie, they loved the pictures of your baby. Let them know you're thinking of them. It brightens their days and makes them smile, and smiles are precious these days. They never get on the computer, so that's not an option. (They are so funny that way). Pick up paper and pen and get to it. I'll bake, you write.
