I like to say I'm not a crier. I also like to say that people are what they describe they aren't and aren't what they describe they are. So I guess I'm a crier then. At least I was today. I was stoic, even philosophical, 'no one gets out alive' and other such intellectualizing of the circle of life or death. I was pragmatic, correctly assessing I could do nothing there to impact outcomes so I may as well continue on with work. And then I talked to my father and he cried. I didn't cry then and his emotional crack swept through like a squall, ending with an announcement that he had his moment and it was time to move on. He was describing watching my mother crash, she slipped away while he was talking to her. If he had left as he considered doing to grab a computer from work, we might have lost her then. Now he won't leave her side. She is overwhelmed with tubes, breathing by machine, eyes slightly open in her sedated state euphemistically referred to as 'rest' by the ICU staff.
I tried to be cool, relaying the information to my brother, noting she had a 'little crisis.' Then he asked what dad was going to do. A little welling, a tear or two. I composed myself, returned to the office. Eye contact with the boss was all it took. I lost it. Choking sobs. I was horrified. To his credit, he ended the meeting he was in and told me to go home. He gave me a great hug, told me he was sorry this was happening, loaded my purse with fun size Twix and sent me on my way.
What a guy.
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