Humble Me

I joke a lot, but there is nothing more sobering to me than a reversal of roles between parent and child. That happened to me today, when my dad had some (minor) surgery. My mom had to work, and I had time free, so I volunteered to be his "nurse" for the day. He was heavily sedated, so I had to help get him to awaken. The sedative the anesthesiologist administered had a lingering effect of forgetfulness, too. It was as if I were seeing my dad with a degenerative disease, like Alzheimer's. He asked me the same questions repeatedly, but I didn't mind in the least. Where my dad would often agitate me, particularly in conversation, I had the utmost patience and concern for him. I just felt this overwhelming sense of sadness for those people who experience that with their parents, their providers/caretakers, everyday. It's really weird, but when I had to help him put on his shoes, I noticed that his toenails were in serious need of grooming, and I could see blue spider veins winding up the pallid, translucent skin of his feet. That's when it dawned on me that my father is getting old. I nearly broke down in tears right there. I have seen my father as strong, aggressive, ageless, almost omnipotent, practically omniscient, from the moment I knew to appreciate him. A father of two from our church died from a heart attack about a month ago, and he wasn't even 45. My father is nearing 70. When I see him sleeping, I fight the urge to check his breathing. I am certainly grateful for every moment we have had together, but I still can't imagine life without him. I hope I won't have to anytime soon. I love him, and selfishly want him to be around for my wedding - which is so far from prospective right now - and to at least see my first (only?) child. I can only pray that the future is not too far off in another direction.