Thursday, March 8, 2012


I was driving through the bowels of hell this evening, also known as Whalley, when I noticed alot of activity in the car in front of me. I moved in closer to see what was going on and then I got sick. The driver was beating up his passenger. With a fist, he was power bashing him/her in the side of the head and the passenger was not defending him/herself. Then he grabbed a handful of hair, and rammed their head into the passenger side window half a dozen times. I sped up so I could see the license plate more clearly and just as I got close enough, he swerved into a side-street off the King George Hwy.

I pulled over and sobbed. It was such an awful, awful thing to witness.

I've praying for the passenger ever since.


With my heart already soft and vulnerable, I stopped in to visit my dad.

I heard him yelling even before I got into his room.


I wasn't able to calm him; he wants my mom to pick him up and take him home. He was yelling and bawling. Big ugly sobs. Big loud voice.


It. Was. Heart breaking.
You can see it in his eyes - he just doesn't understand. He's afraid. He's exhausted. (They've been meddling with his meds and have taken him off the night-time sedative and daytime 'calmer'.) Clearly he needs to be back on them. He hasn't sleep for the past 3 days and his agitation levels are climbing. He's refusing to eat. And he just wants to go home. Now. Right now. "DEAR?" (He's calling my mom.) "DEAR?" COME TAKE ME HOME!" And then the tears flow and he sobs from his throat. A shouting-sob.

I fight back the tears and hold his hand.
I rub his feet.
I try to redirect the conversation. But as soon as I stop talking, he's yelling for my mom again. "DEAR? COME TAKE ME HOME!".

"Dad? Can I pray with you?"
He nods.
With one hand on his shoulder and the other holding his hand I start to pray, "Dear God..."
My eyes are closed, but a take a peak at him, because he's breathing so heavy. He's staring at me.
"Dear God,
My dad is here. In the hospital. And he wants to go home. God? Could you give the doctors wisdom to figure out what dad needs so that he can go home soon?"
I take another peak at him. His eyes are locked on my face. I've never prayed with him before - he is stunned into silence.
"And God? Could you heal up dad's cough so that it's all better? And help him to sleep tonight?"
I know dad is listening because he isn't screaming.
"God, please send your angels to sit right here, on his bed with him. Protect him from any more sicknesses, and protect his mind from bad thoughts. Help him not to be scared."
He's still looking at me. I just know it. I want to keep on praying because he's not yelling, but I'm running out of things to say.
"We know God, that you love my dad very much. Thank you. Please keep him safe tonight. Amen."


My eyes are sore from the tears. No amount of expensive anti-eye-wrinkle cream is going to stop this face from aging.
And God is probably tired of hearing from me on this exact same topic over and over again.
(And Julie is in Vegas feeling guilty that she's (probably not) enjoying her first holiday in 21 years after reading this. DON'T even bother, Julie. We are looking after things here this week. Next week it's your turn to cry and gnash your teeth.)

Dear God.
Please? Can he go home? Can you arrange a miracle? Like, could the doctor who started meddling with his meds, stop doing so? Can they agree to put him back on the same cocktail he used to be on so that he can go back to living his life with the woman he loves and needs? God? It's so hard to watch him in his confusion. He just doesn't understand. His brain is broken. You know that. You know what he needs better than we do. Please do something. Anything. The best thing. Amen.


Three things I'm thankful for:
1. In between keeping an eye on my dad, preparing for a Spring Break holiday with my boy, getting caught up on details at work, and searching for a house to move into, I'm working on a project that involves people sending me emails filled with nice words. Which is so awesome. Like, really really awesome.

2. It did not rain or snow or sleet or hail on my head today.

3. I live with a 17 year old boy.



Anonymous said...

Praying...for you too. Hang in there girl. Next week you can relax. Love Marj

Kim N. said...

You and your Dad and Mom are much on my mind today. Praying that the right minds will come together to get things sorted out for your Dad and for peace for you and the rest of your family.