Friday just before leaving work I had a "conversation" with my dad online. He caught me still logged onto my yahoo IM. Normally it's hi, and a couple of sentences.
He has finally come around to the fact that sending me his old photos to get scanned feels comfortable to him. I've been hoping for this for a few months. It has been a source of great frustration when he would tell me he's sent something to my brother or his sister, since neither of them has shared copies, which in my book seems selfish. So, I'm gonna expect a box of pictures in the mail soon. The most delicate and most valuable of these are two glass plate negatives. I'm not sure how he came across them, but he's gonna let me find someone to make prints from them.
Then the conversation took a turn. We've been playing "what would I do" about what I might do if I traveled to Nebraska to see him. I honestly don't have the money to do it, and have mention that. But it's like he doesn't accept that, so I play along. While we were discussing local museums he mentioned his wife isn't doing so well healthwise.
Apparently as a complication to a botched back surgery her rib cage is collapsing and affecting her ability to breathe. I'm not sure what they can do about that and my dad isn't really talking about it either. Then he said he wasn't sure how much longer she can hang on.
I told him that if it came to that I'd be there for him as best I can. At the time I meant financially since I'm not sure I could afford to go out for a funeral service. This is not my mother and I've only met her once for a few hours. I like her, and it's apparent he loves her, but I'm not sure what kind of real support I can be for my dad.
By now (sunday morning) I've had time to overthink things. (boy I'm glad I have that nasty habit!) Seriously, I've had time to be mad that he was missing so many times in my life growing up. I see the lopsidedness of our relationship. I want to be angry about it, but all I can dredge up at the moment is severe annoyance. The bastard typed one line before he signed off that makes it impossible for me to yell at him.
"I'm glad you're back in my life"
Crap! Now I'm probably do the right thing. Listen to him, go out and help him if things get worse for them, the whole bit. I hate it when I do the right thing, but still feel like an imposter doing it.
