Author Archives: Christene

It Went Somewhere

I was talking to my friend today about her relationship that is apparently going nowhere. She has been with him for almost six years without a proposal in sight. She is frustrated and doesn’t want to continue on without knowing where it will go. I thought about it for a bit, and realized there was a time when I would have reacted the same. Six years without the prospect of marriage would have been completely unacceptable. In fact, I would not have made it to the six year mark.

But that is the funny thing about relationships, they are always going somewhere, just not in always in one direction. They fluctuate, stagnate, progress, regress. They are always in motion. Sometimes they don’t seem to be moving except across time. But sometimes that is just fine. Sometimes the point where you are is a good point, and it doesn’t need to go anywhere else because you are where you need to be. In her case she wants to be elsewhere. But progress isn’t always good. Often relationships head towards marriage. Then what? Is that the end? Does the relationship stop when you are married? Is it supposed to? Relationships don’t have a finish line. I think that is when they end, and then they don’t exist anymore. So what are you progressing towards? So you get married. Then what? Do you still want it to go somewhere? You get a divorce. It went somewhere. Happy now?

I tried to explain that she is too focused on the future to enjoy the present. The present might not always be good either, but it can be.

She didn’t understand what I was trying to tell her, so I sent her a song instead. I sent her this Tina Dico song. She said it was a pretty song. Yes, it is.

Drained and Thriving

My dad has been very sick lately, and I haven’t actually come to terms with it. I mean, I am not in denial. Not in the real sense of the word. I am aware of what is happening, and the possible outcomes. I am aware of several dire possible outcomes. I am at the hospital three to four days a week. But it just hasn’t sunk in yet. Then today it got worse. I can’t even bring myself to write it out as I am still absorbing it myself.

I haven’t actually dealt with it openly until now. He has been in the ICU for over two weeks, but I have kept it for the most part to myself. Outside of people who needed to know, only a handful of people closest to me were privy to that information. Part of me was hoping for a quick recovery, and then nothing would even have to be mentioned. But as we are entering the third week, it seems less and less likely.

At first I was shocked when I found out my dad went to the ER due to kidney failure. Then I found out he has been having it for some time and he just neglected doing anything about it. Now the consequences have multiplied and kidney failure has turned into a cascade of other ailments.

So far every day or two something else has come up, and it is never good. Today is no exception. There are times I feel so emotionally drained, I feel like I have been gutted. I will sit for hours feeling empty. There is nothing I can do. I can just watch and be there. Except I feel that even doing that is not enough. In between everything going on I feel as though I am not really anywhere. I should be spending more time with my dad. I should be spending more time with my kids. But if I don’t take a few hours each week to myself I am going to lose my mind. I should be doing more around the house. I should be doing more. But there aren’t enough hours in the day. And I am so very tired.

After visiting him today I sat in my car at the hospital and cried. I sobbed like a little girl, scared and confused. But then I stopped. He didn’t raise me to give up. And he didn’t raise me to feel hopeless. Until the end there is always hope. I can’t solve his problems. I can’t cure him. I can’t even make him well enough to come home. But I can make him feel better. I can make him happy, even if only for moments at a time.

I went online tonight and ordered numerous books he might enjoy to better pass the time in between seeing doctors and having procedures done. I can’t bring the kids to the ICU, but I can bring many pictures. I can’t be there every day, but I can make the most of it when I am there. I can show him the strong daughter he raised. I can make him proud. I can make his last days meaningful. There is in fact nothing I can do, but I can still do everything I can.