I Am Still A Child

I made some arrangements with my parents, who live three provinces away, for today---Thursday. When these did not happen, I called Mum and Dad. They weren't home. Since my dad's stroke 4 years ago (from which he recovered excellently, you wouldn't really know he ever had a stroke) he can no longer drive, and so my parents have sort of become homebodies ... in Winnipeg you cannot go far without a car when you are an octogenarian. That's simply the nature of Winnipeg. And so if I call them and they are not home, I wait a half hour and call them again. If they don't answer, I start getting worried, envision myself telephoning the hospitals' patient enquiry numbers and having the operator forward me to a nursing station, where a nurse tells me something utterly devastating, which I find myself unable to handle because I am so far away and feel so helpless and do not by any stretch of the imagination feel ready to lose my parents. {whew that was a long sentence, wasn't it?} Well, I feel very grateful for mobile phones, because that is how I reached my dad on his, to find out they had an outing to the shopping centre this afternoon and were about to call my uncle for a ride back home.

How quickly my imagination runs away on me, totally red-lining it, nearly sending me into an emotional tail spin! The bottom line is I love my Mum and Dad loads and loads and losing them is my greatest fear. When I start to think how it will be like, how it will feel, I get anxious, and a suffocating darkness seizes my soul. A friend of mine once told me, "Roxanne when you lose your mother, you're gonna lose your mind." He based that simply on the ease and depth and intensity of my telephone conversations with her, during the few months he couch-surfed at my flat. No truer words were spoken. However, just because I don't have really long, intense, heart-to-heart conversations with my Dad, doesn't mean I don't love and cherish him just as much. In fact I was a daddy's girl growing up. And still am. In many ways my heart belongs to him, and his to me. Every day I am thankful that I still have my parents: many people at my age (43) do not. I am thankful that I have generous, loving and supportive parents. I miss them loads and loads. And I cannot ever take them for-granted. Ever.