Now for the Hard Part

I was able to take advantage of a few more hours with Dad and family today. He slept OK through the night but had some pain medication this morning that made him pretty sleepy. So despite the fact he had more than a dozen visitors throughout the day, there wasn't a lot of quality conversation going on.

His brother Hartley and sister-in-law Alice stopped by today, fresh from their wintering in Florida. Dad obviously has lost his Texas tan. The contrast with his young brother made him seem even older!

Yesterday, among the multitudes, Dad was visited by his two great-grandsons in Minnesota. Today he got to Skype with his two great-grandsons in South Dakota. Amazing what modern technology can do these days!

His other visitors today included 5 of his daughters, 3 grown grandsons and my "twin" for the day, my nephew Travis, who races four-wheelers in Minnesota. I'm his #1 fan! (And wow, decidedly shorter than him!)

My departure plan was to hit the road at 2 p.m. so I could get home while it was still light out. I am glad I stuck to that because it forced me to do what I had to do.

What I have learned in my semi-state of denial here is that if I don't type something "out loud" or say it out loud, it's not true yet (in my mind) and I don't have to deal with it. It takes courage. I don't always have enough. But sometimes you just go with what you got and move forward.

So I am typing the hard part first... The reason I went up there to say goodbye is because after Dad had a heart attack Friday, the doctor said he's got 1-2 weeks to live. There it is in black and white.

His heart is too weak to last long. At this point, it's more dangerous to try to do anything for him than to let him ride it out. For as long as he can. Maybe he'll surprise us all and be here in 6 months. But that would be a miracle. And while I believe in them, I am trying to be realistic here. So his time is running out. Hard to say that/type that because, well, now I am admitting it's true.

I wish it wasn't, but it is.

Now for the speaking part. Way harder. Saying "goodbye" out loud was heart wrenching. The writer in me can't even think of an adjective strong enough to describe my despair.

I said goodbye to all my other family members there first because I knew, after my final words with Dad, I would need to walk straight out of there and not look back. When it came to Dad, we had a few words, a lot of I love yous and a really long, hard hug with me bawling loudly in his ear while he patted my back and tried to comfort me. I cried telling him I wasn't ready to let him go. To say goodbye. But when I was done. I stared him in his teeny little Hedberg eyes in order to memorize his face, kissed him and let go of his hands.

Then let him go.

I was pretty distraught for the first hour of the drive home but managed to bring it under control and concentrate on driving so I wouldn't put anyone on the road in danger.

I felt at peace, though, about what had to be said "out loud" and what I had to do. My heart may be in pieces, but it is at peace.

I hope Dad's is, too. He is surrounded by so much love, it has to be.

The Things We Do for Love

I can't claim to know all of my dad's dying wishes, but I am pretty sure I fulfilled one of them today. Mind you, this was today. For one day only. I swear.

I think he appreciated the effort, don't you? At least I got him to smile! And no, I did not buy a Green and Gold wardrobe. I had some help from a neighbor in the hat and jersey department, but I didn't trust myself treating the jersey appropriately, so I bought a $5 t-shirt on clearance and auctioned it off for charity later. (Or just gave it to a sister.)

For the record, I kept my Viking socks on all day. There will be no repeat of this. I'm pretty sure I will need antibiotics for this rash!

I was not the only visitor today by any means. My aunt and uncle from Minnesota were there. Here is Dad with his brother Ray.

All of us siblings within driving distance made it today, too. Here my twin and I show some love. We seem happy, but I tell you, that was not really an accurate assessment of the atmosphere. It was such a hard day that, just ask my hubby, I was procrastinating leaving the house this morning because I wasn't ready to face what was to come.

I decided to drive myself because my guys had quality time with Dad last weekend and I wasn't even sure where I was going to lay my head tonight. (But it would be easier to find free family accommodations for one.)

So my strategy was to concentrate on driving, bellow out '80s tunes on the radio and not think about the conversation awaiting me at the other end of the four-hour highway.

I had requested or "reserved" my 30-minute slot of time with Dad, and my siblings graciously obliged. I pulled up a chair next to his wheelchair -- he didn't have the strength to use his walker today -- and we held hands and I stared at his oxygen tube in his nose and looked at his nearly translucent skin and tried to find courage for words.

They didn't come easy. "I'm sad, Dad." He said he couldn't blame me. "But I'm on my last legs and my legs aren't doing anything any more."

He was so tired and had such a hard time staying awake that we really didn't have a conversation, so to speak, just some close, private time with some talking and some tears -- from both of us. While he napped, he squeezed my hands tight and the tears rolled unchecked down my cheeks and onto that darn Packer shirt. At one point, when Dad opened his eyes, he saw me crying and woke up enough to reach across the table and grab a box of Kleenex for me.

But he did not let go of my hand.

Just as I am not ready to let go of him. Period.

But it's not about me and what I am ready for. All I can do right now is count my blessings and thank God that -- unlike a lot of people -- I had this chance to express my love, my gratitude and say goodbye. How lucky we are!

When I kissed him goodnight before leaving the nursing home and heading over to my twin's to sleep, he asked me, "Will I see you tomorrow?" I answered, "I'll be here if you will."

One can only hope.

Shock Waves

There have thankfully only been a few times in my life when my heart simultaneously jumps to my throat while the blood drains from my face. Inevitably it has been bad news about one of my parents.

Fourteen years ago yesterday, in fact, I got a call in the late afternoon that my mother had suffered a stroke. It was Easter Sunday and the last thing I expected to hear -- especially about my mom, who I always considered the healthy one. Of course, without hesitation, we hit the road and headed north for that 4-hour drive that -- back then -- included little or no cell phone reception for updates.

It was a rough trip with a whole lot of praying and praying and praying.

In the end, while it was touch and go awhile and downright scary, it was determined it was only a "mild" stroke. It took a few months to recover, but Mom was soon back to her normal self, getting feisty with her grumpy old man and wayward (but wonderful) children as needed.

Crisis averted.

With my dad, however, I'm not quite sure I can count on one hand anymore the times he has put my heart through the wringer. There was that ambulance trip to the Twin Cities when he needed a stent in his heart, that helicopter ride there just 18 months ago with his heart attack, then the congestive heart failure and seemingly critical case of Shingles. That's just all that comes immediately to mind. I think the list could go on and on.

I suspect he is part feline because I'd swear he has 9 lives. That's the problem. He has all these close calls but always, always somehow bounces back to normal.

Eventually.

I got a call today and I am not sure anymore if Dad's already reached #9 in the cat count. He's taken a turn for the worse and, even though I just saw him last weekend for Easter, I am going back Up North in the morning. I'm a bit in shock and denial right now and can't quite put into words what is running through my head and breaking heart.

Part of me is thinking, OK, I am going to see him, hug him, love him and say goodbye, in case this is truly the last time. But that other part of me -- that has seen it all with this stubborn old man -- still believes he's going to bounce back like always.

Realistically, that's a very small part of me that holds that belief. Now I'm just trusting God to get me there safely.

And on time.

Coffee Break

If you ever wonder why I am so productive when I work from home, this is my setup...

Or it would be if I wasn't so afraid of needles! It comes close to the truth, though. I can drink a lot of coffee without thinking. It has two advantages: One, I am alert. Two, my micro-bladder requires many trips to the bathroom so I get steps on my pedometer, too!

Today, since Carter stayed at a friend's last night and the neighbor did not need a ride to practice either, I was able to roll out of bed, grab that coffee and get to work. Since there were no judgmental teenagers around, I didn't have to shower until right before noon when I had to go pick those two up!

Yup -- alert, productive, showered and getting steps -- sounds like a good day at the office to me.

As a bonus, since today's baseball game was obviously rescheduled, Carter and I took a field trip to cash in cans. This time around, the "Cans for Carter" crusade yielded $13.95 -- and Mr. Can Man rounded it up to an even $14. Whoo-hoo. Who's rich now? I don't even know any more what Carter is saving up for but I do know it's going to take a long time at this rate. It nothing else, he has a little spending cash and doesn't have to bother us for every nickel and dime.

But I bet he will.

He should at least do some chores this week to earn his keep. He has crossed 3 items off the list: I already forgot the first one but I know the second was "cash in cans" and the third was "clean room." Well, he did vacuum it today and it smells good because it was almost 50 degrees and time to let the fresh air in. I'll have to see how it looks tomorrow. That may go back on the list.

Of course, my "coffee break" will be over and I'll be in our real office so no one will be here to enforce it.

Any volunteers to be The Voice for a day??

Trail Mix

I finally decide to mix up my race routine this year and throw in a challenge. I plan to go for a "trail run" or two -- and take a look at my first trail! Seriously, this is the scene today of part of the route through the Iola ski hills for the Iola 5K Trail Run coming up in 10 days. Snow shoes may be our best bet!

Or, if the above-freezing weather holds, it may be quite the mud run! I guess if I was looking for a different challenge, I'll have one. Frankly, it's just a challenge to get motivated to run regularly these days. I'm not too concerned, though. This is more a "survival" run for me. Not concerned about finishing time, just concerned about finishing and want to see how the uphill battles go.

Between now and then, it's not just running on the agenda. We -- as in Carter and his athletic supporters (Dad and Mom) -- are supposed to have some 4 or 5 baseball games in that time. Batter up? Or no?

Carter's first game for tomorrow is obviously called off since the ball field in Rapids looks just like these ski trails. It might make it easy to slide, but that's about it. And yes, once the white stuff finally does melt, it is definitely going to be a huge mud fest for the first several games.

So glad our boys are wearing white-pant uniforms this year! Will no doubt become a stock holder in Shout.

Just hope will have happy trails, not trials, this "Spring."

PDP (Public Displays of Parenting)

The teen in our house is at that age where just about anything Dad and I do -- or don't do -- embarrasses him. I remember that age and I remembering thinking it, too. I just hoped it skipped a generation.

No such luck.

Today and the next two days I am working from the home office because, as usual, our schedule is dictated by the ungrateful one. Since Carter has baseball practice from 10 a.m. to noon each day during Spring Break, he needs transportation. If there's one thing we parents know how to do, it's provide transportation!

We worked out a deal where his teammate who lives down the road would get him transportation (with his parents) on Monday and Friday, and I will provide it for the two of them Tuesday through Thursday.

Now the one thing that is enjoyable about working at home is that you can roll out of bed, throw on some sweats, whip your hair into a pony tail and sip your coffee comfortably in front of the computer. Who cares what you look like, right?

Well, please note that teenagers care.

Fifteen minutes before we were to leave the house this morning, I checked with the boy to see if he had everything ready for practice. He said yes, then looked at me and said, "You ARE taking a shower, aren't you?"

Sure, honey. I'll just drop what I was doing for work and hop in the shower so I look presentable when we pick up your friend and drive to practice. I'm so glad that wet yet CLEAN hair, no makeup and sweats is what you were going for, because that is what you get in 10 minutes or less.

And did it really matter when both boys sat in the back seat anyway?

If he thinks that's embarrassing, he should check out this blog I heard about...

No Foolin'

I know the day's not over yet, but I escaped getting fooled today. For the most part.

Mother Nature stepped in right away. It was sunny out early. Here I had this last-second thought to grab a jacket. Good thing. Here we're driving along to work and the radio announces it's 18 degrees.

Not a joke.

Baseball practice, which was scheduled indoors anyway, was canceled today. So while we slaved away at work, Carter had two friends over to "hang out" and behave, naturally. I kind of expected that between the combined power of 3 teenage boy minds, they'd pull something. But honestly, I think they were so worried about squeezing in video games and ping pong games and hot tub time, they didn't even realize it was April's Fools Day.

Now I'm kicking myself. I could have pulled off a good one!

I'll have to think of something while I get my Blake and Adam fix on The Voice. Somehow, I expect I'll be a bit distracted, though.

So breathe a sigh of relief, boys!