Slow Motion: Another Dad Moment

Not my child. Not her dress.

My 10-year old daughter is beginning to enter a realm where the times my impact on her is
plainly seen are fewer. I hate to see her grow, but love seeing her grow. Ya know?

My six-year old daughter, however, still frequently reminds me how important I am in her life. There are moments with the older one, still, but the little one is all about daddy.

This morning, while getting ready for school, her first choice of the day's attire was dirty, having been worn twice already this week (Said "yes" to day two, but three was pushing it). The next choice, even by my standards, was not a good one, because it's PE day at school. Her third choice left her uncertain, but she put it on.

As she brushed her hair, she kept looking at her dress (I made her put bike shorts on underneath. After all, it's gym day) and moving altogether too slow for my taste. Finally, I said, "Sweetie, you look beautiful. I love the dress." BOOM. Smile and a whole 'nother gear. Now we're moving toward getting out the door. 

As she bounced around and as I tied my tie, I realized I had made an impact. I replayed her smile in my mind and thought of how she needs to hear things from me. The same thing from mom is good, too, but when daddy also approves, it must be good. I need to be reminded of that from time to time. Reminded that I am important. Reminded they need me.

I'm forever telling them how smart they are when they've done something well, pointing out when they've been a good friend, or when they've shown generosity, and so on. Little girls don't just need to hear they're pretty, but when they do, it is meaningful.

I live in a home full of girls, including the two kittens we recently acquired, so rarely do I get to say, "Dude, that superhero shirt is killing it!" I don't even know if that's something that would be said.  But, I'm sure something appropriate would carry as much weight with boys as with girls.

I like moments like this. When everything is moving at the speed of light, when I can't even think clearly because of all the activities and time flying away, a moment where I clearly see my child's smile and happiness in slow motion is priceless.

 Image courtesy petuniad.

Is This Happening?

My dad, a few years before his stroke.

May 1989

When I visited my parents' house around 5:00 p.m., I usually found my dad sitting at the table, watching the news and smoking a cigarette after having worked in the garden, tended to the cattle, or any number of other things that could happen under direct sunlight.

This day appeared to be no different. I walked in the front door and said, "Hey." He was at the table, watching television and trying to hold and light his cigarette. He dropped it a couple of times before giving up on the task for a moment. 

As I went to get a drink and some food out of the frig, he began telling me about working in the garden and how it was coming along, and how unusually hot it had been for a day in May. 

In between my munching and gulping, I noticed that his speech didn't sound quite right, a little slurred. I was about 21, so his 51 years seemed ancient to me. I instantly thought he had gotten too hot and was tired, or he had drank one too many beers due to the heat. But, I watched him continue to unsuccessfully light his cigarette. He'd drop it, pick it up, and drop it again. 

I asked him if he was ok. He said he was. I looked at his face. Something looked a little different, but if the slurred speech and cigarette trouble weren't happening, I wouldn't have noticed. 

After another minute or two, he went to lie down and was unsteady on his feet.

I thought, "Is this happening?" It seemed like a stroke, but it took me another couple of minutes to act on my feeling. I called my mother and brother. We went to the hospital. He seemed to feel better. The doctor sent him home.

Later that night, he had another, more significant episode. We went back to the hospital.

At the hospital, after the second episode, we learned that he had suffered a significant stroke and that the initial episode had been a smaller one. He survived, but in the days and weeks to come, we learned the extent of the stroke. His right side had been severely affected. He had no use of his right arm, no use of his right leg and the right side of his face had no movement.

He eventually regained some use of his leg and was able to walk short distances with a cane. His face returned to normal, but he never regained any use of his arm. His mind was not affected and his speech returned to normal, thankfully.

It seems strange to say, but he became more emotional after the stroke. He was much more prone to happiness and sadness, tears of joy or tears of pain. 

The stroke happened in 1989. Dad passed away in 2011. He lived and enjoyed his life for over 20 years after the stroke, but he would never mend another fence, never help another old mother cow deliver her calf, never toss his granddaughters into the air or run and play with them, though he wanted to, so badly.

All of this could possibly have been avoided. 

Please. Learn to see the signs. Learn to act and not think, "Is this happening?"

 

Visit the American Stroke Association and learn, and consider helping to further research here.