Injury

My father has had an accident. My sister and I only found out today but evidently he has been and still is, in the hospital. His prognosis is good for which I’m thankful but there is a tiny chance for his injuries to become serious or even critical. While my father and I have never been close (that is being diplomatic), his love being conditional and mine being dormant from a lack of relationship, I feel sick. I feel I could retch at any moment and a fear that is so big has swallowed me whole. I don’t want him to suffer. I don’t want him to get weaker, sicker or lose his mental faculties. He is old, not strong like I see him in my mind. He is/was larger than life, a military man, able to take on the world. I don’t want to watch him become a broken, vessel of human flesh that my mother morphed into after cancer robbed her of the very breath I take for granted.

All day I’ve stood strong. I saw the eyes of my sister and niece well up with tears and fear and I knew I had to help them, letting them lean on me. Now I’m alone, everyone is asleep and I can’t stop shaking. The lump in my throat has grown to the size of a football field and all I can think about is how much I want to hold my dad, call him on the phone and tell him I love him. Alas, he has cut me out of his life.

How ironic, the one daughter that is prized for being beautiful, strong and has always been his favorite won’t call him because she says she is too distraught and can’t deal. Yet, the other daughter that he views as weak, spineless and “a drain on society” wants desperately to call him and speak words that soothe and give cheer.

The mad laughter is only in my head, right?