I know. A little too quiet, in fact.
It’s not that I didn’t want to write something long before now, but looking back at the history of the posts, it seems like I had a lot of ranting to do, mostly about family, and I get sick of writing those.
I’ve also been horribly depressed. I’ve been overwhelmed even before 2015 ended, and it almost seemed like the moment that clock settled at 00:00:00 on 1/1/2016, stress fractures appeared in one giant weave in my world, and it’s left me scrambling to make sure I can patch them before more showed up. Last thing I want is for the sky to fall on me.
January to March is the accumulation of:
- 4 strep cases (children).
- 1 bronchitis infection that triggered asthma (myself).
- 1 stomach flu (son, on Spring Break no less).
- 5 cases of cold/flu.
- And a few more things.
Then it’s April. First thing this month is my father having to check himself into the hospital yesterday. He’ll be discharged Saturday.
He’s alone. So much is balanced on that man’s shoulders that his health is failing. And I’m terrified. Half the world away, I can’t do anything. I can’t cook for him, stay with him… help him in any way, shape, or form.
Except the stupid 5 minute phone calls I make to ask how he’s doing.
He’s my father. In my veins flow his blood. Anybody who knows my father and knows me never fails to comment that I’m a chip off his block. I don’t just look like him. I’ve got his personality traits. We may not talk, but I get him, I suspect, in the same way he gets me. Our father-daughter times, few in number, were always special and different from when he’s around my mother or my brother. I know. I can sense it.
Introverts connect more non-verbally than verbally. That’s the thing that my mother and my brother has trouble with, being extroverts that they are.
I think that’s why he’s had so much more success with raising me from a distance than my brother. Once you figured out how someone thinks and acts, it’s not difficult to understand what he/she’ll say or do even before the words are even uttered or the action carried through. It’s the little things.
So when I say I’m terrified…
I. Am. Terrified.
If anybody needs me, I’ll be reachable by email. ❤