I have watched this day arrive as if it was an approaching storm on the horizon.
The dread....the sense of danger .......even some fear.
One year ago today....my father had a massive stroke.
In 74 days he would be dead.....in 67 days ...my mother would be dead.
I remember the time leading up to the news....in almost perfect detail.
The uneasy anxious feeling I had when I woke up.
Arriving late at work.
Norm, one of the employees, dropping by my office to say, "Your husband is trying to find you."
I remember how the news of my dad's stroke sounded new but very old.
The fear that something catastrophic would happen to one of my parent's has been sitting inside me and waiting for years.
I remember walking into the book store's office and saying to Jim...in a flat voice. "My father's had a stroke....I have to leave."
I tidied my desk and straightened my chair, knowing I would never sit there again to work.
The plane ride, the calls to people, the messages to the kids....and then the hospital.
Quiet and dark....close to midnight.....the ICU doors swinging open to my fate.
Where is he? Where is he?
There.
There.
Dad. Dad.
I'm here.
I grabbed his hand and kissed him on the forehead.
His eyes opened. His eyebrows arched in surprise. His blue eyes had a bit of twinkle.
Dad. Dad. Dad.
He tried to speak but couldn't. He pulled my hand to his lips and kissed me.
For 74 days we would do this over and over again.
Dad. Dad....I would plead.....and he would grab my hand and kiss me.
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