It is at this same precipice – looking down into a deep chasm of potential loss – where I have come to know the blinding beauty of love’s light in it’s fullest form. The moment where love’s force pierces you with a grief previously never imagined. A pain that when all is said and done, you can only be grateful for, as it means that you have known something so beautiful, so human and so eternal, that your life will never be the same for it.
The best thing that can come of this chapter in my life – the thing that I pray for hourly, is for my Dad to recover and thrive. An unexpected outcome is that my heart feels softer, quieter, somehow older. I know how little any of us knows of our time left here – and how little sooooooo much of IT all matters.
For those who don’t know, and so I can mark time, Dad remains today in the ICU recovering from his aneurysm on November 5th. After a surprise episode of internal bleeding Friday evening, he now has 8 new units of donated blood, and the hope of his doctors and family to continue his thus far miraculous recovery. To say it has been a roller coaster is an understatement, as we’ve teetered between joy and panic over the course of many 12 hour periods.
I know for certain that the world is a markedly improved, and infinitely more fun place with my Dad in it. Here’s hoping he’ll get another couple decades to show it.