Why?!

Tonight I am sad, which isn't new.  But I'm also angry too, and that also is not new.  I'm afraid to say I'm getting really good at being both sad and angry . . .

So random, indeed.  And SO unfair.  Why dad?  Why now?  I mean really . . . why couldn't it be someone else?  Someone who is mean, unloving, disrespectful, violent, etc.  Someone who doesn't have any family or friends, who hates life and/or isn't going to be living it (i.e. a criminal already locked up somewhere).  Why?!

I know, I know--I sound horrible right now.  And life isn't fair.  And sometimes, bad things happen to good people.  I get it.  I've heard it before.  That still doesn't change the way I feel.  And no, I'm not wishing this on anyone else; I'm simply wishing it wasn't my dad.  MY dad.  My hero.  The first man I've ever loved.  One of my biggest fans and my boys' sweet Papa.  Why?!

I'd be lying if I said I haven't raised my head to the heavens and asked Him directly, "What do you think you're doing?!" as this reality we're living doesn't feel like we're being protected, cared for, or loved in any sensible way . . .

And yet, I cannot give up hope.  I won't.  It's literally all I have to cling onto right now, as Dad lay in ICU fighting for his life and Ethan is scheduled to undergo open heart surgery later this week.  They both HAVE to pull through this.  There's no question.  Any other alternative is not acceptable.

Which leads me to feeling sad.  And angry.  And asking why.  WHY?!

Tired

 I'm so tired.  

Yes, I'm tired of waking up in the middle of the night to tend to a screaming 18-month old whose canine teeth are working their way through the gums. But the lack of sleep is just a fraction of my problem. I am tired for other reasons as well.

More than anything, I am tired of not knowing.  Not knowing how long we get to juggle schedules and rush, rush, rush to squeeze in every moment with dad as we can while still attending to work and other obligations, simply because I'm not sure if each kiss I plant on his forehead or hand and/or whispered "I love you" will be my last.  Not knowing if dad will recover, either physically or mentally, or both.  Not knowing if he'll wake up.  And if he does wake up, what will life look like?  Will he know who we are? Will he have the same witty sense of humor, same prankster spirit?  

Even if he regains all his functions and is the dad we remember and love, it will be MONTHS before he'll be able to do what he used to, if at all.  WNV takes it out of you, and even for very healthy individuals who have minimal medical interference to help them fight the virus, the weakness and fatigue that lingers takes many months to many years even, to resolve.

And if I'm this tired already, I cannot imagine how much harder this is going to get.  Ethan's surgery is next week and what we're dealing with now is in some ways about to multiply.  Even just thinking ahead makes me nauseous, as I cannot comprehend the number of balls I'll have to juggle while not gaining any more hands.  The fire is raging and I have no choice but to walk through it.

Sigh.  Ready?  No.  BUT . . ready?  Go.

I'm tired.