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A Hard Life
Sep. 6th, 2009 04:22 amMy father's physical decline, over the past 18 months or so, has felt like a headlong run down a steep hill. You know, where you feel you're leaning so far into the next step that the only possible outcome is that wingless flight of dreams or a bone-shattering crash.
In fact, my father fell in the kitchen of his assisted-living apartment several days ago. They say that nothing is broken but the pain is so persistent that he's been unable to walk. They may have their theories on why this is, but this is a man who holds it within his heart that one who cannot walk is one who will soon die.
Now, when I go out on the track, I think of him. He is the one who forced me to learn the fast pace that I'm now certain is keeping me alive. And, as I walk, I see him dropping farther and farther behind. But I don't slow down and I do not stop. Mercy is a quality not readily learned from one who has lived a hard life...
LPK
LiveJournal
9.6.2009
In fact, my father fell in the kitchen of his assisted-living apartment several days ago. They say that nothing is broken but the pain is so persistent that he's been unable to walk. They may have their theories on why this is, but this is a man who holds it within his heart that one who cannot walk is one who will soon die.
Now, when I go out on the track, I think of him. He is the one who forced me to learn the fast pace that I'm now certain is keeping me alive. And, as I walk, I see him dropping farther and farther behind. But I don't slow down and I do not stop. Mercy is a quality not readily learned from one who has lived a hard life...
LPK
LiveJournal
9.6.2009
