Yield

Isn't is amazing how life can plod along so much the same that we take it for granted? We have our family, our jobs, our responsibilities, and our errands. And then something happens.
My presentation Wednesday went well, I think. I smiled. Another time, I may share it here, perhaps, later. I used my cue-cards because I couldn't get the power point to work. I was glad I made them. I had never stayed in such a lovely bed in a hotel. It was the first time I ever used the iron in a hotel at 1 a.m. There was a lovely breakfast for those who could eat it. I was not really there though. My body was in Alexandria, but my heart and head were in Rochester. I am not really sure what I said. It's a big blur. I think I was coherent.
My father had a seizure on Monday. Mom called Monday night. They thought it was a stroke. He had been admitted. I went right away Tuesday. They did a bagillion tests. Each test lead us away from the path of stroke to something else, something darker. It is a brain tumor, the neuro-team announced seriously, and he will have surgery at St. Mary's in Rochester on Tuesday. They haven't said the word 'cancer'. They don't know until it has been biopsied. I'm saying words that I've never said before, 'tumor, biopsy, oncologist, cancer'. They taste funny, steely, awkward, on my tongue. My mother said it feels like a bad dream.
To look at Dad is to see the man I always see-funny, quick-witted, and kind. He answered a man's lawn mower questions from the hospital bed on his cell phone without blinking an eye. He was checking on details for a treadmill that he was fixing at the Family Y, wondering when the circuit board would be in. He walks unassisted and scoffed at taking the mandatory wheelchair to the lobby when he was released.
In a rare and beautiful gift, Dad's surgery couldn't be scheduled until Tuesday. They saw no reason to keep him admitted so he is at home, drug free, normal. We get four amazing days to play-Friday, Saturday, Sunday and Monday to get his ideas on paper, see his children and grandchildren, cancel plans, postpone trips. My brother drove twelve hours and is here for two of the days. He does not see this time the same way I do. I wonder why I see it as a deep blessing. I perceive the spiritual movement and sense things I can't explain. I think I grasp it, but it is out of reach too. I can't explain how precious this time is to me, but I think I'm the only one who is seeing it this way. I get the feeling of preparations being made for him, of deep comfort, of things getting aligned somehow. How lucky, I keep thinking, 'he's so lucky'. What a bizarre thing to think, I tell myself.
Dad wants to go fishing, play cards, have a cocktail (no), mow the grass, check on his tomatoes at the garden. I hope we get to do all of that and more. I yield to everything else; I am so lucky!