Last night I sent Marilyn a text message asking how dad was doing. She told me he had not taken a pain pill since 11 AM. It was about 7 PM. And, he was eating a good dinner.
This really frightened me. I remember going to see my mom and she looked better every time. It created hope. Hope that I desperately clung to. Then I remember the pain of acceptance that she was not going to live. The crash was tremendous. I don't want this, which makes me feel guilty.
I do not want my dad to die. I also do not want to suffer from the idea that he is going to survive only to have the rug pulled out from underneath me. I am grappling with so many things right now. I am scared to death about my house. I had it all planned out. My dad was going to come and we would get so much done.
Isn't life funny. What is the expression about the best laid plans?
"The best-laid plans of mice and men / Go oft awry"
This is my house.
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