Parental Mortality
Maya Angelou’s poem I Learned has a line that reads, “I’ve learned that regardless of your relationship with your parents, you’ll miss them when they’re gone from your life.”
It’s a harsh reality: that realization that our parents aren’t going to be around forever. For me, that moment came when my dad filled us in about his heart problems. I found out when I was home for the holidays (at the time I was living in NY for work and flew home each Christmas to be with my family). I came across something I wrote right after it happened, so instead of trying to explain the feelings I had then, I’ll share that exact writing from January 2009.
This was originally titled: My dad is sick.
It hurts me to admit it out loud, but I can't run away from the truth. I can only hide for so long. When I made the decision to move to New York I asked my aging father to promise me that he would always keep me well informed of his health. It's hard enough being so far away; the last thing I need is an unpleasant surprise.
The day after Christmas the four of us sat around our dining table after breakfast. I know that meals together is one of the things my parents miss most about not having me around. Me, my brother and my mom were talking up a storm about some new something or other, maybe a movie... We were so busy chatting that we didn't pay much attention to my dad sneaking away from the table. A few minutes later he returned with a thick file folder full of print outs. He slowly opened the folder and began handing different sheets around the table.
Each sheet was filled with similar medical jargon. My dad, the strict military disciplinarian that he is, got straight to the point. I'm sick. I have {insert three word long medical term with cardio in the suffix here}. It's my heart. My mother, brother and I do what we always do when we have these serious family meetings. We remain silent. My father's strong personality usually looms in the air as we digest whatever life-changing aspect he presents at the family meeting - only this time that familiar strength was influenced by a slight tinge of vulnerability and for the first time in my life I felt like my dad - the man who always has a plan - didn't know what to expect next.
Mom cries. Of course. Raendy looks down directly in front of him. And I, frustrated with not being able digest the medical jargon on the sheet of paper in front of me, demand a diagram of a heart from my father. As if dad already knew, he whipped out a drawing of a heart and started pointing and explaining. This is not a death sentence. At this point I have so many things running through my head I think I stopped listening. I was concentrating on suppressing my emotions. I know my dad needs me to be the one to not freak out, the one with the back up plan when the man with the plan's plan doesn't work out.
I interrupt him - So what's next? He calmly explains his treatments and lifestyle modifications. Mom's still crying. Raendy hasn't looked up yet. My bottom left lip is hidden beneath one of my teeth - my effort to control the quivering. Dad repeats himself. This is not a death sentence. We just have to be prepared.
Today I called my dad just to say hello. Right before we wrapped up our conversation I asked him how his heart was feeling. Good. Better. I'm no longer gasping for breath. I tell my dad that I'm happy to hear that. I say my goodbyes and hang up the phone with tears streaming down my face. I didn't realize that he had been short of breath. He never complains.
My dad is sick. It hurts a lot. If you catch me in a silent daze please don't ask me what's wrong, or if I'm okay. Instead, please just say a quick prayer for my dad because my dad is sick and it hurts a lot.
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If your parent is sick, know you’re not alone in your feelings. And if your homie has reached out because he/ she just found out his/ her parent is sick, know they’re processing various emotions. You being there for them, even if it’s just to listen, helps more than you know.