I saw my dad today, for the first time since he was found incapacitated and taken to hospital, diagnosed with ‘failure to thrive’. It’s been a long time, maybe two years? I can’t remember, and of course neither can he, but he did remark that it had been awhile. I said I was sorry that I hadn’t visited him over those years and explained that I needed him to be ‘better’ before I could see him. He said that he is the number one person who wants him to be better. He said that he had been through some scary stuff. He said that he was being well-taken care of and was grateful, that he didn’t want to leave the hospital.
He apologized for ‘everything he had put us through’. He said that I looked good, looked healthy, and that health was the most important thing. He said that life was going to be different for him now. We agreed that he will just take it one step at a time.
He has a view from his sixth floor hospital room that is really lovely and a lot of time to think. I wonder what he thinks about. I bought him a newspaper, it was all he wanted when I asked.
I showed him pictures of C. It seemed difficult for him to comprehend that those were pictures of his granddaughter. He said that what matters is that he has ‘two beautiful kids’. It always used to make me cringe when he said that growing up. But I suppose I might understand him a bit better now. He loves us more than himself.
He has very little self-worth, yet he says he wants to do better for the next part of his life. What matters is ‘enjoying what you do’, he said.
‘Take care of yourself’, he said.
‘You too’, I said, closing the door.
