In the end, I was brave for once...

It was harder than I thought to go see my dad again after seeing him in the hospital after open heart surgery. A good hard, but hard nonetheless. About a day ago, I wouldn't have been able to even talk about it like this. I've shoved the thoughts of that one scene so far down into my memories that, even after coming to terms with it, I find it impossible to fully reclaim those memories. Only a few pieces resurface and then fade just as quickly as they appeared. Like the scene as I first walked into the hospital, the look, the smell, even signing my name on a sheet of paper the lady behind the desk gave me. I can remember that easily. But as we walked closer to his room, the images get harder to recall. I can get clear images up until his door was just a few steps away. Then it snaps to when I first saw him, tangled and covered in wires and tubes. Next is the way he forced himself to talk. It hurt. It hurt so badly it literally took all I had in me to keep from crying my eyes out right then and there. Then I snap to when we left, just as we passed out of the door, I broke. I choked back my voice and shook, tears rolling endlessly down my face, my hands pressed heavily against my eyes and my brother holding my shoulder tightly against him. I cried harder the farther we got. I'm about to cry now as I remember all this. It still hurts. No wonder my mind buried my memories so well. But then, why would it allow me to recall only the most painful parts. I know there's more to this timeline then just simple snaps of images and scenes, but recalling it just causes my mind to hide them away as quickly as possible.

Today... yes, today. Things seemed just a bit easier. It took all my courage to come up and visit him, all my will to keep from thinking about it till the last second. I forced myself to come. I forced myself to witness for myself what events had left me with. Whether he was crippled and sickly or just moments form death, I had prepared myself to see all of it, but I hadn't prepared myself to see what reality gave to me. It gave me probably the one thing I needed most right now. Pure faithless and childish hope. That's right. Hope. We sat in this restaurant, my mind constantly distracting me from what was to come. But no matter what I thought, I would have never expected to see what I did. I caught a glimpse of him in the corner of my eye as he appeared beyond the entrance to the restaurant. No crutches, no wires, no tubes. In fact, no nothing. He stood on his own. He walked in the room completely unhindered. As if nothing had ever happened, he walked in and gave me a smile. I smiled back, somewhat in shock, but not really realizing what was happening. The only thought going through my mind was, "I have to get to him." I stood there for a minute, listening to him speak. Waiting for the others to sit down. Then my legs started to move. Before I could even understand, I had weaseled my way past chairs and people and I stood in front of him. He opened his arms and I reflexively did the same, accepting the invitation for a hug. All at once, it hit me. "He's really here." I thought. "He's alive... he's really alive. I'm not dreaming. It's not a dream. Oh thank god he's really alright. Not dead. He's not dead." I couldn't help myself. I hugged him tightly, tighter and tighter with each thought. I didn't want to let go. I thought I might still be dreaming, just maybe, that tiny chance that it was the happiest dream ever and I didn't want to let go.

I had gotten another chance to get to know him. He was alive! I cried, and cried, and cried, and cried some more. My sweater was soaked by the time I could finally speak and look at him and say "I love you" back without bursting out in tears. Oh god, he's alive! That's all that matters. He's alive. He's really alive.