End-of-Winter/Sad Dad Poem Post

Or, "shit is so serious right now I had to write a 'weird relationship with dad' poem instead of an ' emotionally-fraught relationship with mom' poem.

This one is maybe kind of a downer, but I wanted to publish it now since it feels like this time of my life is wrapping up. Winter is ending, things are thawing out, and my dad just got home this month. He's been gone all winter, from what was meant to be a week-long trip last November. Instead of a week-long trip, he ended up having a five-month stay in Texas caring for his 90-year old father, who somehow was still living independently in a 55-plus community when he arrived this fall.

While my dad was visiting, my grandfather had a surgery that went badly, which then turned into sepsis and an infection that required IV antibiotics administered twice daily (by my dad, who was the person the E.R. happened to train to do it). So my father had to stay out there until my grandpa was off the antibiotics, which took months. In the meantime, my uncles ended up selling the house and are helping with moving my grandfather into an assisted living up in North Dakota (where our family is, very loosely, from). My sister and I got some old family jewelry my dad brought back home with him, and it kind of feels like someone has died, even though my grandfather has (please knock on wood) survived the ordeal.

I think this experience was probably the first time my dad has been in the position of being the sole person in charge of caring for someone in a direct, "their life and survival is in your hands" kind of way. I called him once while he was down there for his birthday – we don't really talk much. But when I talked with him, he sounded scared. I, too, have been feeling scared since Trump took office (and before that too, although less acutely). So I wrote a poem about it. My pal and writing buddy Jen (who also has a newsletter, which you should follow!) gave me such encouraging feedback when we workshopped it that I wanted to share – thanks, Jen! Hope you all enjoy, if enjoy is indeed the right word...

Father

Things are so scary right now,

and I wish I had a father. 

I think I never had a father. 

Though I have a father and a mother,

married thirty years.

I had a man who went to work,

a man who brought a book 

(not the Good Book, just some old book)

to my nana’s cooling deathbed.

Just in case he got bored while we waited 

for the spot-faced mortician to come, 

lay a quilt upon his gurney, 

and roll my mother’s mother away.

My father is in Houston, Texas now,

where it has lately snowed. He is caring 

for his father, who cannot yet decide

if he plans to die this winter. 

He changes the antibiotic line 

that goes into his father’s arm: 

a line of medicine that goes right to the heart– 

a line of poison that goes right to the heart– 

a line of love that goes right to the heart. 

And my father thinks: things are so scary right now, 

and I wish I had a father.

Something I have been worrying about throughout this process – and am still a bit worried about – is that the antibiotic treatments my grandfather has been getting, which have been keeping him stable but not fully wiping out any infection, might stop working. Antibiotics are a miracle and also a bit of a nightmare as an evolutionary biologist, and I fear the possibility that what's actually happening is breading antibiotic-resistant bacteria inside my unwitting grandfather.

Honestly, my grandfather and I aren't super close, and I'm not entirely sure if he thinks I am going to hell for being gay and/or approves of my marriage. But I am a little afraid that by publishing this I might somehow jinx him into actually dying, which I would feel weird about. So, if anyone would like to send some positive vibes my grandfather's way and try to head that off, I'd appreciate it.

Spring is coming. Our daffodils are coming up. The sun is rising sooner. Love you all, and hang in there.