into the night

so, i have quite a few projects i’m finishing up right now… and i intended to blog about one of them tonight. but, my heart and mind are totally consumed by the love i have for my dad and daughter — and the love they have for each other.

what’s so troubling is knowing that these sweet little interactions i’m having the privilege of witnessing will come to a close much sooner than i can fathom. my dad, kelsey’s grand-daddy, has emphysema, and has for a while. he’s getting so thin. his muscle are wasting. he’s always tired. he’s only sixty-one.

about a week and a half ago he had to stop going to work because he couldn’t breathe.

couldn’t breathe.

it’s gotten so bad that he can not breathe.

4:00am.

walking around in circles after a terrible coughing fit, desperately trying to catch his breathe.

gasping short, little gasps.

panicking.

truly fearing that that was how he was going to die.

that this was the end….

it breaks my heart to think about him not being here… especially for kelsey.

my parents came over for dinner tonight. dad did the norm — talk to brian about nascar, beer and burgers. played hide and seek with kelsey. watched her run around in the backyard. and dance and sing and be her usual silly self.

they exchanged their regular ‘tigger’ sounds [a hoo hoo HOO].

he took three doses from his new inhaler while they were here.

and coughed that deep, horrible, phlegmy cough a few times.

but, this is what got me tonight:

after the three extra hugs per person that kelsey insisted upon, kels and i stood on the porch to wave at the car as they pulled away. suddenly, kelsey started shouting ‘grand-daddy!!’ just as he was closing his door.

he hadn’t heard her. she yelled again. no response.

she started waving, then, so did i.

she seemed upset that dad wasn’t yelling back to her.

then, as mom was backing out of our driveway, she started flashing the headlights. kelsey and i laughed a little that the car was telling us goodbye. i hoped that would be enough to turn her mood around…

then, dad rolled down the window.

it was dark — we couldn’t see him — but we could hear him.

from the darkness, he shouted out, ‘i love you kelsey koo!’

she shouted back, ‘i love you grand-daddy! muah!’ and began blowing loud kisses at him.

he returned them – ‘muah, muah, muah’

back and forth they kissed into the night until i couldn’t see the car anymore.

such pure joy on her face.

twinkling from her eyes…

by then, i was crouched down on the porch, hugging my child nearly around the waist, trying desperately not to burst into full-on tears.

these are the moments we can’t get back. i am so thankful to have felt it and been a part of it.

but…. the part of me that is still figuring out how to cope with all this was just devastated. i’m not ready for him to be… gone. i sure am going to miss him. i have to hold tight to these memories now. and make the greatest effort to get together with my dad — spend as much time with him as i can. as we can.

below are some of the pictures i took from their last visit: kelsey and her grand-daddy, reading ‘brave’ aka ‘merida.’

i love you, daddy.