Friday, January 16, 2009

When is it ok...

Ok, I really like my comedy/dramas, ala Grey's Anatomy and Private Practice. I just feel that the pacing of both comedic and dramatic elements work really really well for me.

So since my boyfriend doesn't like them as much as me (ok, he doesn't like them at all to be honest), I Tivo them and watch them on my own.

This morning, I was watching last night's episode of Private Practice and as usual, there were a lot of storylines going. Violet is sleeping with two guys. Naomi turns into a stalker over Sam's new girlfriend, the hottie health inspector from the previous episode (the guy works fast!, but this is Taye Diggs, I'd go after HIM anyday!). A patient and his two kids with Cystic Fibrosis has a horrible choice to make, to watch one kid die or leave one kid alone to bury his dad and sis.

The story that really hit me, was Charlotte's. She is the ice-cold bitch administrator at work. She finds out that her "Big Daddy" is dying and she goes back home to deal with the situation. Cooper goes back and provides support to her. Big Daddy has pretty much already passed away and the machines are keeping the shell alive. No one in the family can do the "right" thing and turn the machine off.

So Charlotte is pretty much the only member of the family that can even stay in the room for any length of time.

That's when we find out that Big Daddy was horrible to everyone and using their terms, "his chickens are coming home to roost". Charlotte has a heart and it still works apparently. She is a doctor and knows what the best thing to do is, but still can't do it. Cooper helps her and tells her she can cry.

She doesn't.

She only cries once they're both on the plane back home.

This started me thinking and wondering, "What would I have done?". Big Daddy died from lung cancer. I should also mention that today is 1/16. My own dad died from the same disease on 1/19.

It's funny, on the one hand, I find that I have to think back, that I'm finding it hard to remember how many years (has it been that long?) he's been gone (2 years now, he died in 2007).

I'm starting to not feel it affect my everyday life. To stop coloring all my decisions. To not feel the loss.

I started making the bed. It was already made, but the OCD (or CDO for you OCD'ers out there) in me came out and I made the bed again.

And I started crying. Sobbing really.

So I just sat down on a perfectly made bed and cried my eyes out.

I saw my dad in Big Daddy's place and I in Charlotte's and I don't know if I could have turned off that machine. Could I have killed my father, even though he was already dead. I just don't know what I would have done.

My dad died on a plane coming back to the States for medical treatment. And I wish I could have been there. To be one of those people doing CPR on him. Even though I know that it wasn't going to be enough.

So that he would somehow know...

that I forgive him.

That he's still my dad.

That I'm still his son.

I'm crying as I type this.

And it's ok...

Angel wings flapping
Sets my heart and soul at ease
To face a new day


1 comment:

Efren said...

That's how grief works, baby. Sometimes it just sneaks on by. Sometimes it hits you like a ton of bricks. But you let it wash over you, and then you move on with your life. You have to.