Pinch Me

Everything's coming full circle.  All of the sudden I feel like we're rushing into this huge, scary abyss where this past year will become more of a reality and life as I knew it before was a sweet, happy, dream scenario.  I can't handle that Father's day is now a day away.  Last years is still so so fresh and palpable.  I remember deciding to join Dad at the boat that Saturday, last minute, on my way back from the theatre in Topanga.  And turning left to head to the valley and back to my apartment, than chatting briefly on the phone with Dad and thinking - ya know, fuck it - it's father's day weekend - there's nothing holding me back from being with him, I'll head to the boat.  And I whip my Prius around on Topanga canyon and head to PCH and onto Long Beach.  Where we promptly hopped in the dinghy - just Dad, me and the dogs (Melvin and... Margot), two beers in hand and two in the boat, and we set off for a Dad/Daughter dinghy cruise in the afternoon.  wow - it feels so real to think about, so available... but so distant at the same time. 

Anyway, upon returning to the boat from our cruise, Mom arrived - and somewhere in the mix Margot ran away.  To which I went screaming up and down the bike path, "MARGOT!!!! MARGOT!!!" and the drunks down the dock would shout back, "POLO!!!!!" (( yes - this story works much better in person. )) and meanwhile Dad is truly panicking for he LOVED this stupid dog to death.  I finally see her all the way at the beach and I scream, "MARGOT! GET OVER HERE!" I scoop her up in my arms and walk back towards our dock.  I hear the drunks yell, "OHHH Margot's the DOG!"  and my Dad comes rushing towards me, and I drop the canine into his arms and say, "happy Father's Day."  

I spent the night on the boat that night, and we all went out to breakfast the next morning.  Very mellow, nothing special.  In fact it just felt a little bit eerie.  Dad didn't order his usual biscuit and gravy because he was trying to be healthy and good.  I thought he'd make an allowance for himself on Father's day of all days but no, he was trying to get healthy.  Damnit, Dad you should have just had the biscuit and gravy loaded with lard.

And now here we are today - 1 day away from Father's day, 7 away from the one year anniversary.  And in this one day today, Dad completed his term at CNS.  (or insurance completed it for him granting us no more coverage and promptly leaving the rest of his days and future open and free.)  So the folks at the clinic gave him a little celebration - there was a cake (red velvet), and a certificate, and a present - the game 'Sequence'.  there were hugs and lots of tears on behalf of my parents.  I felt sort of apathetic about it all.  CNS didn't fulfill it's expectations for me; not in Encino, and definitely not in Bakersfield.  If anything it dramatically burst my bubble of hope for my father's recovery.  and it's almost like he's more dead now than ever and extremely far from healed.  I remember when we first started at CNS, there was a graduation day for another client.  And that client gave a speech, and thanked the therapists for helping them on this journey and for everything they did for their recovery.  And the client apologized for the difficult times and the bitching and refusing they did in the beginning.  But ultimately thanked them for making them a better person and giving them a quality of life.  I remember standing there, so excited, imagining what Dad's speech would sound like when his day was done there and he could thank the therapists for helping him heal and come back to life.  He couldn't give a speech today, there was no understanding of the significance.  There was some understanding due to the attention around him... but the details of it all, of course not.  Dad wandered around the room and up and down the hall, crying and emoting and probably feeling incredibly overwhelmed and confused and insecure.  Mom gave a teary speech, and all Dad could do was add on to it with a brief but genuine, "yeah... thanks."  Then he blew his nose and motioned to me to get out of there.  

So we left in 2 cars - and I promptly had to race back to Toluca Lake to office #1, grab 2 tapes and then head to Dad's previous office, and proceed to fix an edit for a client.  These were the offices I would visit Dad at in the past, at least once a week.  I would race up the stairs to my Dad's lair and pop my head around the corner - then poke around on his desk or at another computer before he took me to lunch or happy hour or something fun like that.  But today I raced up those stairs to sit down and supervise an edit in his old edit bay, filling his shoes, while he was on his way home with my Mom - riding in the passenger seat with his CNS Brain rehab certificate in hand.  

it still doesn't feel real.