Right Now

One of my very favorite days of the week is Tuesday because that's the day I religiously have set aside to hang with my Dad. And, by 'hang,' I mean the main event of our time together is round after round of Bingo, and we take that stuff humorously fiercely. With humorous fierceness? Fierce competition without actually caring about the outcome? Totally invested in the game at the time so much so my Dad might randomly blurt out a bad word but it's all okay and no one actually cares bonding? Whatever it is called, it's a huge highlight of my week.

Now and then, there are students who come to visit with and learn from the residents of his place. It seems we're at the start of another rotation of such learning visits, and that's cool because it's just more bright and shiny people talking to and listening to my Dad. And, they're lucky to be assigned his company because he rules. Anyway, today was such a day, and the nursing student and I chit chatted a bit as I decorated Dad's door for Valentine's Day while he busied himself in our post-game ritual of counting and dividing our ticket winnings. It's how he spoils his grandkids, and they love it. Anyway, my conversation with the nursing student was fun for me because I got to talk about my Dad, and it seemed to help her start to bring pieces together of what goes in to being a great care taker of the elderly. I barely scratched the surface of my experiences of these past few years, but I got her mental ball rolling in the areas of learning to communicate and learning what to expect of someone who, at one time, was independent in every way.


My and my Dad, Christmas break '87.
No math review; just catching up!

One of my most poignant examples of his skills changing and my own mental gears requiring a shift (and the example I share the most) is with regard to his current math skills. It wasn't terribly long ago that I was watching him add, subtract and divide the ticket winnings, and I noticed it was a project. He didn't seem frustrated in any way. In fact, he is always very focused. You can see it in his eyes. It's the same laser focus he had when he taught and retaught (aaaaaaand, retaught) me how to do algebra. And, geometry. And, algebra 2. It's the exact, same look, only now he is the one totally focused on what's going on instead of waiting for me to stop crying saying, "I just don't get it." The man has the patience of a saint. When he wants to. hahahahaha. Anyway, he spent his career as an engineer and could teach me math without much of a review of the textbook. It's quite a shift.

But, it's also been quite wonderful.

When we're together, and he's working on the ticket project, I love watching it. I love reflecting on growing up with him, and I love just quietly sitting there supporting what he's doing. It almost feels like a loving repayment of all of the patience he gave to me. My heart feels that anyway. Even if it's not that, I like being there supporting him and talking with him about the process. Every ticket tabulation is wrapped up in a celebration of how great we did that day ... even when we didn't. I see every bit of the good of where he's at.

Just part of the stash of winnings on
Pit Crew #3's dresser ... waiting to be
spent in the candy store at Grandpa's!

The nursing student asked me if it was hard to see him in this way. I could only smile and say, "Absolutely not." I went on to tell her that I knew a while back that I had a choice to make about how to go forward with my Dad: I could be really sad about skills that have been lost (and, really, it's not like I remember how to do algebra right now, I mean, c'mon), or I could be really thankful for exactly who he is right here, right now.

It's that right now we often struggle with, isn't it? How many times have any of us said, "I used to be better ..." "I wish I were faster/stronger/smarter/better at ..." How many people around me in the running game have said, "I'd do that, but I'm not fast enough." How many people talk themselves out of doing something because they're not where they think they should be or that they won't measure up to others?

Tomorrow's on its way, and it can be another chance for improvement or change. So, why do we have to let the past or the future hold us back from what we can do and enjoy today?

Whatever happened to right now?

I'm seriously thankful for every step I take every time I go running even when I don't feel like going. I'm thankful for exactly what I can do that day, better or worse than the day before.

And, I'm so very thankful for Dad time on Tuesdays. Every minute of that time is about right now. It totally grounds me. Which is totally different from when he used to ground me.

Just sayin'.

See you after the morning run ...