shock

I'm up after everyone else is in bed tonight just for a little while because we decided to have a birthday party for Owen's 3rd at the hospital tomorrow with Dad.  We had suspended getting anything together for it temporarily, but then Dad was asking about Owen's birthday and what was going on, so we are doing something since tomorrow is the first day we will be able to take the kids for a visit (out of ICU onto a 'normal' floor at Mass General finally)!  I told Dad I was going to bring a cake and have a little party for Owen there, and Dad's response?  'Bring enough for the the whole floor.  That's how you make friends in a place like this!'  So, my Dad is still exercising his hospitality gift, right from a hospital bed.  I love it.  From about 8:30p til now I cranked out a big chocolate cake in a pan, a cake to decorate quickly for Owen, and a cherry pie that I already had in the works (a Dad favorite).  So, we might not catch the whole floor, but there will be plenty to share.  We the parents have no gift for Owen, but between all of the gifts we've been handed by relatives, he's got a respectable pile waiting for him.  Owen has no idea his birthday is going to be tomorrow, since this was all decided tonight, and will be very excited when he finds out.

Working in the kitchen tonight, in quiet solitude, gets the mind going.  Thinking about my Dad and what he's going through is like a tide...I stop processing for a while, think on other things, block it out temporarily, especially when there's a positive development here or there.  But after a while of that, it all comes roaring back and freshly steamrolls me again.  Right now, I can hardly believe that Dad isn't sleeping in the guest room, but in a hospital tonight.  I can't stand that he has to sleep alone there and we are all sleeping at home and separated; it doesn't seem like a time to spend even a moment apart, but it doesn't help the situation to get exhausted, and a hospital is not a great place to sleep (ask my Dad).  Then, I can't even yet grasp that we may have to say goodbye at some point way sooner than we all ever anticipated.  I'm wrapping up cake in plastic wrap and just realizing that these days feel so surreal, bizarre, not our lives.  I'm just shocked.  You can know abstractly that these things happen, but oh, it is so much different when it's *my* Dad.   And what gets to me more than how I feel about the goodbye, is imagining what my Dad is feeling and thinking...I know he has sought purposefully and faithfully to trust God with whatever happens and to train his mind on what is true.  But there is so much emotion even while trusting, and it is a lot to be going through. 

 ¹ God is our refuge and strength,
       an ever-present help in trouble.
 ² Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
       and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,
 ³ though its waters roar and foam
       and the mountains quake with their surging.

God, please be ever-present with us, we ask you for peace that moves from head to heart.

Dad got a first session of radiation today, of 10 days total, designed to shrink the brain tumors and decrease swelling.  God-willing, my parents would like to go back to NC after that.  I'm not sure of many other details of this palliative treatment as I wasn't able to be at the hospital for many of those discussions today.  Looking forward to good visiting time tomorrow.  I love you, Dad!