This win is for me

Visiting my parents for Memorial Day; having hot dogs and all the sides and fixings because Mom likes to make holidays special even if it’s not a celebration. We’re talking and joking around, ‘The Last Vemeer’ is on the tv and we’re eating on trays in the living room. Enjoying the moment then cleaning up after eating. I made my parents some homemade air fryer cinnamon sugar donuts and an apple n cheese danish. Mom says I want to talk to you. I follow her to her room. We chat for a minute then she says your Dad wants to talk to you in his office. 

Dad opens with the tell it to me straight about what’s going on with your job and the company and your boss. Tell me all of it. He gets straight to the point; I dig that about my Dad. I tell him how the whole shakedown went. I’m still hopeful that I can step up to a full sales commission position with a draw on future commissions for the next few weeks to a month. I’m stupefied but was also fully aware something was coming for a few days prior. I spiral in a million different directions about the role, the pay, the expectation, the circumstances surrounding the reasons why the conversation had to be had and how the dynamic of my role at work was shifting seriously sideways and fast. My boss is adopting and a baby is on the way, we have no claims no business coming through, he can outsource the admin part of what I do, but wants to give me an opportunity and is also fully supportive of if I have to look elsewhere for something else in a month if I can’t just make it rain at work. Because literally a good storm would fix this lull. But he’s pulled the trigger on expanding his business and he can’t reconcile the pay when it’s not as busy and he has to think about the future. And I’m just blazing through it all and it hits me. I can hear myself and my feelings are increasingly less optimistic about the situation and the reality of how that means he doesn’t see me in the future of his company unless I go out and make a bunch of sales. I stop. I look at my Dad and he says, “you think people are like you, you think they have good intentions. And you hurt yourself when you realize you expected more from them, because it’s what you would do. I love you, but you’re naive and far too trusting of people and situations and you’re too generous with giving the best of you to others. It’s time to start thinking about yourself. Your whole life you’ve made others a priority over yourself. I need you to stop doing that now. I need you to look at me because I’m being serious; this isn’t a compliment. I need you to put it all down for a minute, I need you to put the needs of your kids, your granddaughter, your job, your boss, your friends, your Mom and I, I just need you to press pause. I know you don’t think you should, considering the the weight you’re carrying for everyone else. Quit putting yourself aside. I don’t know how much longer I have left in this world but I would like to see you win. I need you to think about what is best for you, not for your son, or for your boss, or your kids, or anybody else, just You. I just need you to put You first. I just need to know that you’re going to be okay when I’m not here anymore. You need to think about the next phase of Your life and what You want that to be, what You need it to be. But I need to know you’re going to be okay.”

Two hours later I’m still waiting for my lungs to refill with air. I don’t think anything has ever knocked the wind out of me so hard. I can’t control my tears right now, but I held them in in that moment. It was all too fragile; everything was, and I would’ve fallen apart if I let it sink in too deep.

It wasn’t the words, it wasn’t how he said it. It was his eyes and the way he knows he won’t be around forever. It was the look of ‘I’m all out of fight’ kind of look. 

It’s the same one Nani gave me the night before she died. When she grabbed my hand and held it asking everyone to leave the room, asking me to stay behind. 

~ ~ ~ <She was tender and we talked for a few minutes; she asked me to take her back home, she said she was tired but that she didn’t want to die in the hospital. I told her she was going to be fine, it was temporary and after the doctor fixed her hip I would bring her home. She paused and smiled, used both her tiny frail hands to lift mine to her lips and kissed my hand and prayed for a moment quietly to herself. She looked different in that moment and when she opened her eyes, she said, “I love you. You have been a most brilliant and beautiful light in my life. She asked me to bring her a filet o fish.” I hugged her and kissed her forehead and I told her I love her and that I would be back tomorrow with a filet o fish from McDonald’s.

The nurse was stammering for me to leave the room so she could finish taking Nani’s vitals and move her to another room. 

She was 86 and I believe she knew it goodbye. 

She passed the next day, about 10 minutes before I got there. I was in such a hurry to see her I pushed past everyone in the hall, no cutesy hugs and kisses or hellos. I just pushed past everyone into her room to be by her side. I didn’t know she had already passed. And yet somehow I still think she was there in that room. I leaned into and just hugged her and I told her I love her, just over and over how much I love her. Just loving her with everything I could. 

A few minutes later my brother walked in and through tears managed to mutter that she died 10 minutes before I got there, but no one could tell me because I came in and made a beeline to her. I think peace washed over me, my my tears were hard and eyes were on fire, my muffled crying was inaudibly soft. I felt her in that room and I felt so much of her love.> ~ ~ ~

I didn’t know that it was an I’m giving up the fight’ look then, but I saw one quite similar today. That’s saying a lot, my Dad is a proud man, the good kind of stubborn, amazing in ways that it is so fucking unbelievable that I get to be his daughter; but my Dad is a fighter. He’s always been a fighter! And knowing he’s ready to give up the fight means he’s ready to go, he’s just trying to swing a few more things first. 

I am selfish. Yes I definitely heard what my Dad said but what stands out to me right now was how morbidly aware of my father’s mortality I must’ve been. All I know is I couldn’t have been more thankful for my Mom’s interruption into the room to say my son wasn’t feeling good, we probably need to get going.

I nearly fell apart and I really need my emotions to not always be ready to jump off the ledge, so I can just be strong for my Dad now. 

My Dad’s words resonate with me, I hear him. I told him I hear him and sometimes I listen. He always says, “but you don’t always listen to me! And I am one of the few that has the very best intentions for you my dear.” 

Gulp. So I just listened to him with my heart. I heard him, every word, every why, every when, I shut up and listened. 

I don’t know what is going to happen in the next few days, weeks, months, or even years, fuck I don’t even know what the fuck is happening right now. But there are a few things I wish I didn’t know right now. Yeah I hear you Dad. I listened to all of it this time. I’m going to listen to you. I promise. 

It feels eerie being fully awake and aware that your life is about to change. I can do this Dad, I just selfishly don’t want to do any of this without you. Also I’m not grieving you today. You want me to win and I want to win. So I’m going to go get a fucking win.

Writing through these emotions helps. It helps me catch my breath.

This win is for me. (but yeah also for you too, Dad)