Sometimes there aren't enough rocks...

You know that line in Forrest Gump where he says, "Sometimes there just aren't enough rocks." ?

Well, I think I learned what that means today. I went to visit my father, with whom I have been through so much in the past few years. One bout with cancer, followed by another. Even in his weakest states. he was still there for me. Still there to listen to my petty complaints. Still there to cling to in my own weakest moments. Still there to hold me tight and let me lean a bit. But mostly, he still leaned on me. As he always did.

He's weaker now. Older. So much older. Gone are the days of backyard kickball, being held when I fall. Gone too, the moments when I could lean. He still listens. One of the best listeners I know. But he doesnt answer, or advise, or really have much of anything to add. He's just...weak. And it pisses me off.

I want him back. Strong and able. Even if he wants to lean on me heavier than he ever did. I want him back. Playing and laughing, no complaints. Tall...running...hell..I would settle for walking. I want him back.

So when I left, walking across his gravel drive, I picked up a rock. Launched it at the nearest thing, which happened to be an old wooden shed. Unfortunately no windows to break, because that would have felt really good. So I threw another and another..launching all of my irritation at his cancer..at what it stole from him, from me, from us. I launched it at that shed and I said a lot of bad words. And when I was done, I looked up at his window, and he was standing there. The effort that took for him at this point, is pretty huge. But he was doing what he always did. Making sure I got to my car safely. That I was well on my way and he could not worry.  Letting me lean..in his way.

I know this post has nothing to do with my usual ones. Sorry about that, but I needed to write it anyway. Life is so short...and all the things we take for granted are over before we know what hit us. And there we find ourselves throwing rocks at a shed..just because it feels good. And watching our old and fragile daddies looking down at us from windows....with a smile.

Emily...