Two weeks ago, I learned that my dad is sicker than he had previously let on. Sick to the point that he has decided not to receive additional treatment when the current course stops working. He firmly believes it’s a matter of when. This sickness and the side effects have been his occupation for a couple years. He’s tired of being sick, tired of medication, tired of surgeries and recoveries. I understand to some degree but it wasn’t something I was prepared to hear.
Now, I have to try to figure out how to see him for what sounds like the last holiday I will spend with him. I sort of wish I still lived in the states, it wouldn’t be so complicated. Arranging an international trip during the holidays when all you want to do is ignore the situation and pretend like that conversation never happened creates a lot of room for some very negative self talk. I should have bought the tickets two weeks ago. I need to call him more. Why aren’t I (fill in the blank with what needs doing but I didn’t so I am a terrible child)?
I sit down to look at ticket options and just wind up in tears staring at the million tabs I opened from all the different airlines and travel sites. The numbers and times all blur. International travel can be daunting when you are excited to take the trip. Planning when you are heartbroken seems impossible. This is about the time I get angry. At him, at the situation, at myself.
The anger does not help. At least it is not a gut wrenching sadness. I need to take action, I know. When I have made my travel arrangements and bought the tickets I know that I will feel more relaxed. I also know that once this travel problem is solved I will no longer have a distraction from the fear of what awaits me up there. No more frustration at airlines having such varied baggage policies that are impossible to keep track of to stave off the thought that this trip is probably my goodbye to my father.
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