The night before I was singing with the nurses in the oncology treatment room, I was with daddy at his home. It was late and I had gone to bed. Daddy was still awake and I could see the light from his office shining beneath my door. I watched that light so I would know when he went to bed. I was listening for him…just in case.
About 15 minutes later, I saw the light go out, and suddenly I heard a big thud! I bolted out of the bed, threw on some clothes, and ran out the door. I found him crumbled on the floor of the foyer. He was leaning against the wall with his head in his hand. I knelt beside him and asked if he was Ok. He said he was. I asked about his head and hip. “Ok.”
I sat beside him for a few moments while he caught his breath. I stroked his arm and newly baldhead. Then it was time to help him to bed. He had been weak all day. He had been in the hospital earlier in the week because the chemo had done a number on him. He had not recovered his strength. That’s why I was there, and that’s why I had decided to stay another night.
I’m pretty strong these days but I couldn’t get daddy off the floor. I tried with all of my strength, and he tried with all of his, strained and exerting, but we simply couldn’t get him up. We could make it half way up but couldn’t find the strength to push past those last few inches. I gently let him back down to the floor, apologizing that I wasn’t strong enough and that I needed help. I would go get a neighbor, but he refused and said he knew we could do it if he could just rest a moment. We rested, and then tried again. Pushing and pulling, sweating and gasping, straining with every muscle and bit of will we had was not enough to get him up and able to walk to his room. Again, I told him I needed to get a neighbor. He refused.
So we rested. Daddy then decided that he was going to crawl to the bedroom. I told him I was concerned and that a neighbor would gladly help, but he insisted. It seemed to me that his determination was a declaration of his resolve to beat this cancer. I wanted to honor that declaration as long as I felt he was in no danger. So I stood above daddy, holding his chest off the floor while he slowly crawled toward the bedroom. He was straining and sweating. We had to stop several times but finally made it to the bedroom. I insisted he lie down for a few minutes before we pushed on to the bed. He was exhausted and getting weaker. I was about to give in and call a neighbor when he said he was ready to make it to the bed. I decided to give it one last shot and we went for it. We made it to the bed and with the help of all that supports me in this universe I was able to get him up into the bed.
He said, “We did it, Carla.” “We did do it, Daddy.”
We sat for a moment resting, sad, relieved. We then began talking about how to get through the night, knowing he was so weak and would likely have to go to the bathroom. We were trying to “fix it”, you know…then he just slightly welled up. I happened to catch it. When I saw it, I immediately stopped, welled up and smiled a tender smile at him. He smiled a tender vulnerable smile back. Time stopped. We just connected simply and deeply. I lay down beside him and stroked his head and arm. It was very tender and vulnerable. It healed years of hurts and disappointments for us both I think.
In that moment, time expanded. It became large and encompassing. One moment made up for years. It’s a moment I will treasure always.
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