Happy, belated, Father's Day, Dad

I am more than two months through twice-a-week physical therapy sessions, which meant it was time to ‘reassess’ prior to my most recent session. 

 

There had been something of a setback during the previous week; I hurt myself during one of the exercises. 

 

It was a very simple resistance stretch, but it was enough to trigger back my pain–fiercely–for more than a week. 

 

Two weeks later and I’m feeling close to how I was before I aggravated my injury, which consists of two bulging discs in my lower back. 

 

It was something of a relief to see there has been some healing and actual improvement. I have been in pain for most of the past seven months, sometimes to a point where I could barely move. It feels never-ending. I am not optimistic enough to say I can see the end of this journey, but my pain score on the reassessment dropped by six points. 

 

I am still limited to only stretches during physical therapy, no exercises yet, or again until I can do them without pain, per doctors’ orders. They didn’t seem very happy when we finished my exercises that hurt me further, and I asked, “How much pain am I supposed to tolerate when I do this at home?”

 

The answer was “none.” 

 

They were right. 

 

My limp is nearly gone. On Father’s Day my dad said I was walking ‘gingerly.’ Sometimes I don’t notice, it’s just become normal. 

 

Speaking of Father’s Day, my dad and I spent the evening together, went to dinner and played cribbage. 

 

We have been playing cards together most evenings, actually. I call him every night to chat, and lately, for the past few weeks, I’ve simply invited him to come play cards. 

 

I have started journaling regularly again, as a way to write more. 

 

I have written very little for the newspapers this year, due to my injuries and pain. Some days it hasn’t felt possible to keep up with the reduced number of tasks I have kept for myself. Just now, though, I can say it has been a good week, so I will focus on the positives.

 

My friend Madi and I are planning our long overdue trip to Yellowstone. We were supposed to go in April, but both she and I suffered back injuries. Tomorrow we will meet to plan the specifics. 

 

In the meantime, I continue to try and spend as much time with the ones I love as possible. Whenever I am not working and not working on my own physical and mental health, via walking, writing, reading, or any of my other hobbies, I generally spend all other available time with friends and family. 

 

I had lunches recently with Editor Deb Bently and friend Mikhail Rostislavovich. On at least one account, my urges of, please do more retired activities and don’t work so much, have been heeded. Although I still worry Deb is fooling me when she says things like she’s only writing four stories this week and leaving for the cabin, she always finds a way to do more work. 

 

Mikhail, although taking a step back, still works more than nearly every working person I know. He, too, is retired.

 

I have listened to a great many of my elders and I have taken their advice. While I am young I will continue to work hard. However, that was not their advice.

 

The advice I have heard over and over again is to live my life. Travel. Visit with my loved ones. When people become elderly it gets harder and harder to travel. Mobility issues and aging are natural and make doing those activities more difficult. 

 

As for spending time with loved ones? 

 

Jon Butler, president of FM Bank, and friend, reminded me how important it is to spend time with my dad. “Even those stupid phone calls about something he forgot to tell you,” Jon told me. “Answer the phone, every time.”

 

Jon’s dad died rather unexpectedly more than a month ago now. When I spoke with him, I asked him to tell me a little about his dad. I’m glad he was willing to do that. 

 

I told him something I was once told long ago. 

 

“Your dad is the only man who will ever want to see you do better than himself.”

 

Jon had never heard that before, and agreed. I think I even heard a couple smiles through the phone call. Intermixed of course, with some grief. We never stop grieving the ones we love. 

 

My final note I have is from another conversation with a friend. 

 

I mentioned how it's sad and sometimes necessary to grieve for people before they actually die. Sometimes people leave us due to “natural” causes. Sometimes they may be physically accessible, but their personalities, the elements about them that allow us to feel connected to them, are lost. Whether someone is dying from a disease or has given way to addiction or some other danger that they can’t escape, sometimes we mourn people before their time on this Earth is actually done. 

 

I spoke of an example and my friend said I was grieving a person who no longer existed in the form I knew them or wished I had known them. 

 

I then spoke about my father. 

 

There is no mourning or grieving for my dad before his eventual death. I talk to him every day and ask him to play cards nearly every evening. There is no amount of time that I can spend with him that will be enough. 

 

My dad tells me the same stories he has for years, still with enthusiasm. His stories make me smile every time. I ask him questions he’s answered many times about his life, childhood, parents, grandparents, work, etc. My goal is to leave no stone unturned. And despite that, I’m sure, whenever my dad does pass away, hopefully many, many years from now, that there will still be a question or two that I kick myself for not talking to my dad about. 

 

This was my long winded way of thanking my dad for being such a strong part of my life. 

Happy Father’s Day, Dad.