Why do I ask myself this you may wonder? Well, Saturday I start a project in building a garage at my parents house. This garage is intended of storing everything their basement contains at the moment. Everything that will be in the way when I soon begin to finish the basement into a separate apartment for my parents. Seems that life has a funny way of throwing you a curve ball and more times than not, hits a person where it counts as they get older, their health. The victim in this matter would be my dad.
My dad learned years ago that his diabetes were affecting his kidneys. Nothing he could do would delay or reverse this. It would slowly wreak havoc on his body through the years. I watched my "superman" as I saw him as a child, grow to be a weary man he is today. Your body will fail you. If we're lucky, we'll live to an old age without problems, and die peacefully in our sleep after our work is done. Some people get the short end of the stick with tragic accidents, others, cancer. Kidney failure is almost as bad. Through the years I've watched my dad go in and out of the hospital, sometimes the ICU for massive amounts of fluid that would build up on his body and lungs. The sad part is that there's little you can do for him. I hate seeing him in pain. Even more, I hate knowing what thoughts must be running through his head. The hardest moment was one day watching him break down in tears worried that he would be a burden on our family. No matter how much reassurance you can give someone that its okay, that you'll fight through this together, deep down I know his fear resides. I can see it in his stumbles, I can see it in his struggles getting up from a chair, or climbing stairs. I know those doubts linger and play games with his spirit. He's passed the torch on to me to be the man of the family, even if he didn't want to let go of the helm.
I'm not sure how many years he has left on this earth. I hope he has many. I hope in his mind, he wishes for many more. While his kidneys are failing him, he still has time. He hasn't started dialysis yet. For anyone unfamiliar to dialysis, he would be required to go to the hospital three times a week, and have his blood cleaned by a machine for six hours at a time. That's the basic explanation. The pain, trouble, and depletion of energy are kindly left out of the story. At this time, he goes to the doctor ever three weeks to have his blood checked in order to learn what his percentage his kidneys are working. Most times he is required to have a shot which boosts his creactin levels in his blood, to help with the cleansing and to postpone dialysis for as long as possible. This and iron infusions are essential in buying my dad more time before he has to start that awful process of dialysis.
Another toll I see it taking is on my mother. I can see her nerves stretched thin. I can see the agony in her eyes, for she knows if she were to crack, all hope would be lost. My parents have been married for over forty years. Of my twenty-eight living with and around them (I was adopted at the age of two) I've never witnessed them fight or overheard an argument. That's not saying it didn't happen, they just never let me witness it. They remind me of the old time shows like Leave It To Beaver in a sense because they seem like they're from a much different era, one where divorce and today's problems with the foundation of marriage never touched. They rarely go anywhere without the other and when watching them from afar, they look as one instead of two separate beings. My mother is weary of doctors, weary of new medicines prescribed to my dad, for she is very protective of him, his health, and their precious time they have left together. I'm very fortunate to have parents like them to base my ideals on what marriage should be like and how my actions should be if I should find myself married one day.
This brings me to something that I always dwelled on. What if one or both of my parents pass before I am married and have kids. I hate to think of that. I feel like a failure in some way being thirty and not married. I envisioned being married and having kids so my parents would have grandchildren to spoil. I get the kick out of the idea of seeing my child or children sitting in their grandparents' laps, listening to stories, talking, and just bringing smiles to my parents' faces. I feel as though I'm running out of time for this but hang onto the words that I've heard them say often, "love is not to be rushed, when you find the right one, you will know." What happens if I don't know when I find it? What happens if I let it slip away before realizing it? How did they know? After all, my father was from California and my mother Alabama. What's the chances of that? They met when my father was helping a friend move from California to Tennessee. After helping, he stayed around for a few months helping with their business and happened to be in Birmingham, Alabama. He and his friend attended a race at the old Birmingham International Speedway, where the old Birmingham Fair was located. It is there where my mother and three sisters were out with my uncle, about the only time they could go out under his watchful eye. My dad approached her and after sneaking away for a few dates over the next couple of months my dad returned to California. After a few months and many phone calls, he came back for my mother, ran away together, and got married in California. Over forty years later, still humming along...
Back to the title of this entry. I ask this question not of my dad's life, for I know it's in God's hands, not mine. I will stand by his side until the end, whenever that may be. He's my father, my hero, my best friend. We're alot alike, he and I. We're both quite, independent, try to be humorous, hard headed....the list goes on. I ask the question in regards of moving back home. Out of all this I ask because of my own selfishness. Moving back home....it's a lot to handle. I love my parents but can I live with them again? Well, it wont be actually living with them but above them. I'm finishing their basement into an apartment for them and taking over the rest of the house. My fathers health has greatly impacted his ability to climb stairs and even with a ramp on the back deck of the house, its still trouble for him to walk the long length of it now, even more so later. This idea was posed to me when I started looking into apartments to rent. My mother posed it too me first and gave me the spill about the house being mine someday anyway. At first I didn't want to hear it but after a few more proposals from my mother and father I thought to myself, am I being selfish here? After all, they fought hard to adopt me, made sure I had everything I ever wanted, my dreams became their dreams...
So I've decided to pull the trigger. Due to my recent breakup I have nobody else to consider. The only one's to consider are my parents and myself. I put them, especially with the circumstances, above myself. That's not to say that ground rules haven't been established and that heavy, heavy insulation wont be used in between floors so I can't hear them, they can't hear me. I like my sense of privacy, although I have nothing to hide, I like my quite moments, my solitude at times. Its not the living there that will bother me. Its the perception from others, mainly the opposite sex that scare me. What would they think about it? Will they hear this fact and run away? Will they think that since I live under the same roof as my family, I must be a "titty baby," that I'm not secure enough to get something of my own? All these misconceptions, will I have time to explain? How hard will it be to meet my "one and only?" How would I break this to her? Would she be accepting of the fact or would I have to move back out and meet her in the middle? I had this issue in the back of my mind with my last relationship. She didn't want to live in Chelsea because of the traffic on Hwy 280 and in a way I didn't want to be far from home. Part of me liked my short drive to work but the other part was seeing my parents almost daily and watching them struggle with the small things in life like trying to change a light bulb just out of their reach or moving something that was heavy to them but nothing to me.
I want to be there for them as they get older. If I'm judged for this by someone, to hell with them. If they wouldn't do it for their own parents, then maybe they should've been a miscarriage. We owe the people of our lives that we love more than that, more of ourselves. I've taken away more than I can ever give back, not in money value, but I intend to balance the scales as much as I can. I love my parents and I'll cherish what little time I have left in this world with them. How can that be so wrong? So when I ask if by moving back home is the beginning of the end, the end to my dating life, I think it may slow it down with the wrong kind but help find the right one...I hope.
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