We Don’t Want Annie
So I’m here finally, felt like a month I waited! Dad had a stroke last Thursday (22nd), he remembers having a conversation with me (never happened) in which I asked him if it was okay if I didn’t come up right away. He concluded that I was looking for an excuse to take off work. Not quite. Work and husband and kids was all that kept me anchored this past week as I wondered if this (attached) was the last conversation we’d have. My siblings held down the fort while I prayed and prepared and filled up my batteries for the coming months.
As Mr. Mackin said, it’s important to know your limits. And I have so many! I’ve been dreading our last goodbye since I was about five and I’m happy to report that today is not that day. Dad walked today (with assistance) and kicked so much ass in therapy, so proud of him!
Two beautiful songs that make some sense of the chaos are “My Father’s Chair” by Rick Springfield and “Reservoir” by Gathering Field.
Today, I’m happy to be here and happy he’s here and happy to hold Mom up (though, if I’m being honest, it’s her holding me up …)
So, to explain the title, Dad has my name in his phone, so when I call, it says, “call from Ennie” and he answers “We don’t want any!” It’s so silly, the things that you miss! So how awesome that I should bump into — okay it wasn’t “bumping into”; as a deacon, it’s not a stretch to find this fella at church — Jim Mackin, the king of the Dad jokes. We talked about dad, told a few corny jokes, and I told him about how much joy Janet’s stories about her daughters bring (grrrl, keep ’em coming!)
So enough for today! And, yeah, blogs are a bit narcissistic, but if Dad didn’t want me to be that guy, he shouldn’t have given me these genes. Or jeans. Or whatever. Bye for now.