The Book of Life

Flew in from Philadelphia emotionally, physically, and spiritually depleted. Not to mention, nursing my first cold in probably two years--yet one more reason I forgot that I like Florida, colds are harder to come by. When flying from a 26* climate there really is nothing more offensive than landing in 91* weather. That's right, PinF had chosen a record high temperature day to return, making it feel as though I was landing in Panama instead. Starving, aching, and now sweating-- I made my way to the spanish bakery and had a cuban coffee and sandwich then dove into my bed for the first time in weeks. I took a double shot of Nyquil that night and had the type of dreams that are like an all night movie in your mind. When I awoke I was back to almost-normal, congestion gone, sinuses clear, and sniffles dried up. Still my mind was clogged with the many images of the past few weeks. Kindnesses shown, words spoken, prayers recited and always my dad and the despair I witnessed as I and my brothers ministered to him right to the final moment. So much has happened, and yet so little time has been allowed to take it all in. I'm in the process of doing this now as I look back on so much; like a good book read all to fast without drinking in all that it was and savoring the finer nuances of the story.

I collected Sophia who was still on spring break and we made our way to the more familiar environs of our local beach. We proceeded to do what we do best---chill. She had her various books, art supplies, and sand implements and I had an Ipod, a newspaper, and a book. We stayed for 6 hours--as much therapy as it was relaxtion as it gave us each something familiar about each other and our lives before going to Philadelphia. We laughed, we cried (just a little), we played, we made sand sculptures, we hunted for beach glass and we ate hot dogs from the pier. This to me is like taking a giant exhale after all I had seen, done, and felt the previous two weeks. Never mind the fact that there was tons to be done still, I needed to get the head right first. I had the fore thought to just cancel work and get my life in order for the next five days, and part of getting it in order was doing the familiar things-- riding the cycle, hitting the beach, and just relaxing. Mission accomplished.

I'm really back now and in many ways it is a bit harder than I thought. My desk at work reads like a time capsule of a period that now seems so long ago. When I left here I knew I was going for the final chapter of my father's painful reality. I now return to post-its of this doctor, or that social worker, number's of hospitals, addresses, etc all littering the walls around me. It's almost melancholic to remove these reminders however sad they were, because in removing them I remove a little more of the closeness of my father to my day to day routine. Sure I've lost the daily dread of speaking to the doctors, nurses, and my brothers about discouraging news and developments; yet I've gained a gaping hole in my heart knowing that what I just went through was "IT". I'll never see this person in this lifetime. This takes a bit of time to get your thoughts around I'm sure, so I'm in the acceptance phase of this, something I know is normal so I won't dwell. Anyone who's lost a close family member will obviously know of what I speak.

So I'm finishing my coffee, doing my morning routine today when my phone rings just minutes before I'm to head out into the glorious day that awaits me. It's Sophia's mother's phone and it's minutes before Sophia is meant to be in school, so I answer with a certain level of dread for what it is I'm going to hear. What I hear is sobbing, crying, and alot of snot. I ask Sophie to put her mother on the phone. I ask what's going on? Much to my delight it is Sophia crying because she can only order 2 books from her book of the month club as opposed to her library stocking rate of 5. In an instant I realize how blessed I am, and I'm back in the here and now of my life. Here is a child with an insatiable need for books--not toys, not game-boys, but books! I'm instantly flashed back to a moment 4 years ago when we were in KayBee toy store looking for some piece of Chinese manufactured plastic crap and I issued the challenge: " Sophie I'll make you a deal, you can have this one toy, or you and I can go to Barnes & Noble and I'll buy you 5 books".....She sheepishly looked around at the madness in the toy store and then back up at me and she said "let's go Papi, I want five books". Well as my Irish luck would have it, she is able to recite this "deal" four years later everytime the "book issue" is broached.

I asked her mother to give her the money, and I will reimburse her later today. Some would call this giving into blackmail, and in a way it is. Though I would counter that to give into an educational blackmail is a good thing. How many parents would love for their children to read; and read for fun, not just learning. It reminded me of when I visited my mother serving in the Peace Corps in Honduras and how she had begun a library in her small pueblo right out of her house for the children. It is a fact that many children in third world countries barely make it to 6th grade, so my mother wanted the children to know that reading wasn't only for learning, but that you could read for sheer enjoyment. Of course this was something totally new and exciting to these children, coming to this American woman's house and signing out a Cat in the Hat, or Curious George book. I marveled at the joy it brought to these kids, as word spread quickly and my mom's house soon became the local hang out for the 5-10 year-old set.

Sophia is full of love for learning, for this I am blessed and cursed, as she now has well over 150 books in her room. One thing I'm sure of--she's read every one, and in most cases several times as she always picks about five of them before bedtime for me to read with her. Yes things are slowly beginning to appear normal again, the beach, the books, the motorcycle rides. Every so often sad thoughts creep into the mix, or Sophia will comment about how sad it must be for me. It is sad I tell her, but I also remind her that just like her children's Bible we bought at the church book store, her Pop-Pop is in heaven with Jesus now. She understands this because she read it. So on we go, everyday creating another page in our own "book" of life.