The Panic You Feel

“I am in a panic.”

The words flash across the screen and it feels to me as if I can can feel it too but I am half step removed so it is more manageable.

And I can be the rock so when I see this I know all I need to do is plant my feet, hold the line and listen.

It won’t fix the bigger issue but it will provide some stability and a place for momentary refuge, a chance to slow down and look at things.

Focusing on that makes it easier for me to center myself because there a half dozen things poking at the soft underbelly, making me wonder and worry a little bit.

Tried to release some of it by writing about things here and there and haven’t decided if I succeeded or not.

Part of me hears the echoes of dad telling me all I can do is my best. It is appropriate to hear his voice on Fathers Day and to reflect on what he taught me.

But it doesn’t take all of the edge off and I can only attribute that to a question of whether I made a mistake.

I don’t really think I did, but then again I must because why else am I wound up.

Why Else?

Because of a bum and his cult.

Because Pandora’s Box was opened and I can’t control most of what is happening around me and even though that has always been true now feels…truer.

Something about the moment in conjunction with everything else brought another memory to the surface.

We’re at the hospice and dad is slipping away in front of us. As the drugs ease his pain and he falls into a deeper sleep there are fewer moments where we know he is with us.

The nurses assure us he is hearing us speak and I believe it, but it is not the same as when his eyes are open and focused upon us.

I listen to his breathing recognizing some sounds as being among my earliest memories and there is a certain comfort there.

For a moment it is only the two of us in his room and he is focused upon me. For a moment I start speaking about things that he knows, but I feel the need to say again because I know this could be the last time.

And then he tries to comfort me, tries to  make me feel better and I feel guilty because I know it must take a Herculean effort for him to do it.

I tell him it is ok, that I’ll manage and do as he asked. He flashes part of a smile, and I feel his fingers brush mine.

It is comforting, but heartbreaking. I wouldn’t ever have it any other way but that moment will stay with me forever.

Got to plant my feet and prepare for a few things.

Got to plant my feet and accept most things are outside of my control and all I can do is manage these situations the best I can.

Built for the storm and for dancing in the damn fire.

Neither are of my own preference but I am good at both so there is that.

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