For the last ten years, or so, my dad has done nothing but worry about their property. Most of the worry gets toppled with all the normal things in life, like wild fires, drought, financial, health, and vitality. It's never been easy to live on a large amount of property, much less, without family close by. As they've become a tad bit older, it's become harder.
I was shaken to my core a week or so ago while talking to my dad. His guilt, and past have been haunting him. Mix that with a grandson that became suddenly ill, and a daughter that tried not to worry him too much but would crumble at the mere sound of his voice.
He shared with me his heart ache. His fears. His past. His haunted guilt. His body. His worry about taking good care of our mom. His hard work that has ultimately dwindled down to a state of exhausted depression.
And although I share this with you here, please know I keep things real.
This is life.
It's the parents that brought me here.
It's also the parents that did everything they could to provide.
Never ever offering the fancy. Never ever offering us the material in life that would make heathen knuckleheads.
In fact, we've both become hardworking women.
Something I remind him to be proud of.
Never ever did they offer us phony bullshit.
He worked hard.
She worked hard.
They provided wonderful meals every.single.night.
Something someone said recently, (my uncle Alex)-is.....we never really know a recipe with raising children. And so we f up along the way. We do good. We do bad. We make mistakes.
In front of them, and behind them. But in the element of raising children, somehow, we tend to forge "something" in them. That "something", somehow, creates "Good"-
Right?
And so it's like this scale of good and bad. The good always out weighing the bad.
It's the nights that he made sure to come say good night...even after a drunk tangent asshole move.
He still would say goodnight. We sat down for dinner every single night to a home cooked meal. Even if it was "SOS" (Shit on a shingle? lol) Holla mom.
They took us to almost every single museum in the Los Angeles and Riverside areas.
We camped at some of the most bad ass places in California.
And yet you couldn't get them to a school function to save our life.
But we ventured through camp grounds like gypsies.
Roughing it, and causing this sweet southern belle to never want to camp like that again. JK. HAHA.
I'm far from a southern belle, and I don't like to camp. LOL
My point being here, is in this life of watching your parents navigate through the next chapters, as the table turns and the worries get maneuvered in our direction to appease and help calm them.
Or him.
It's happening.
And so going back to a couple weeks ago, I heard my dad out.
He's riddled with guilt because he's never come down to be with Kris during this journey.
Or me.
Or my sister.
Or Kali.
He has reasons.
He cried. I listen. I cry listening to him.
His responsibility is overwhelming on their property.
Something that eventually needs to be addressed.
But you know, I wouldn't even know where to start.
This tree that grew right up behind my parents bedroom (which was a highlight of their purchase years ago) is a major highlight when you look down into their bedroom. Not to mention, a little river runs by it...
a BEAUTIFUL Oak tree.
She fell over.
The texts' come in. From both parents. To both daughters.
Their hearts are broken.
My reply to both, to be glad it swept away from their home. They're safe. And they're alive. And of course, that I was so incredibly sorry. Because I know how tender he is. They are.
I realized driving home that night, that we all have our own source of worry.
Of things that we lean on to feel hurt.
Whether it's a tree. Or grief from trauma.
My sisters reply was "plant another one"
HAHA! Tina!!!
His words of wisdom to me.....
This is nature. This is life. This is part of the plan.
They were unscathed by this falling tree. Physical, not emotionally. They are okay...
He let me know that when it gets real hot, the black oak pumps more water up into the tree which makes them top heavy....
As is true in life, right?
We can only consume so much into our souls. Before we come to a breaking point, right?
So go enjoy the weekend. Have a good time with those you love to be around. Whether it's your cat, or your lover. Go have fun.
Pray for my birdie as he navigates through the weaning of steroids. His spirit slowing down. His body causing a ruckus on itself. Pray for my fingers to not blow his phone up in text messages reminding him of all the little things I want to remind him. My many phone calls I've made the last couple of days to the pharmacy, and losing my shit yet again at the one that can't seem to pull it together. To the sweet but sassy nurse in LA that is so tired of hearing from me. But knows I can't stop, won't stop.
Motherhood.
Warrior.
Don't blow me off.
I won't stop.
Until my last breath.
Life.
Like a tree.
Full of water.
Love to you all......but most of all....my wishes to you is...PEACE.
And good wine. Fill up on that. But don't fall over.
This Mama Lisa
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