Dear Dad

I love you, Dad.

Do you remember when you saved my life? I was eating candy upstairs, which wasn't allowed (no food out of the kitchen) and a piece got lodged going down, and you just happened to be there, gave me the heimlich maneuver, and I survived.

And now I am here, and you are there - so close to me in distance. I sit next to you. I stand next to you and say "Hi Dad. It's Beth. I love you, Dad." And then I ask if you want some water. Sometimes you raise your hand and that means yes. Sometimes you don't. Sometimes you open your mouth. Sometimes your mouth is just open. Sometimes you suck on the little sponge, which holds either tea or water, and I hold it in your mouth with the stick that is attached. Most of the time you swallow the water and your face looks relieved.

Yesterday you said my name 3 times. Yesterday you said "Fine, thanks." That meant you had enough of what we offered you. I know you wanted to tell me something after I reminded you that you saved my life.

Two days ago I kissed you and said, "I love you, Dad," and you kissed me back. Yesterday you tried to kiss me back. Today you couldn't.

I am still here, Dad, and you are still there. And I wish I knew what you are thinking, what memories you are experiencing. I do notice that when we tell a story, your facial expression changes slightly, as if you heard the story. And what are you thinking?

This hurts, Dad. I want to know what you are thinking. I know this is not what you wanted. I know you probably wish we would carry on with our lives, but we can't seem to do that. We spend time in the room where you are, and we talk to you. I struggle. I really struggle. No one ever imagines that they will go from walking, to walker, to wheelchair, to walker, to walking sticks, and then watch their dad go from walking, to walker, to hospital, to hospice.

And while I struggle, and know you wouldn't want me to struggle, I hope. I hope I dream of running alongside you someday. I hope I dream that we run the 800 together, fast, that we high-five each other at the end, and that all the emotional pains I feel, and tears I cry, today, disappear and are replaced by beautiful memories of the wonderful things and times we shared.

I love you, Dad.