Relative Something

Ralph Forest Hays ~ 1919-1981

It is a great honor to be a father to my children. Their pains cut to my core and their successes bring immeasurable joy. Today in the US, it being the third Sunday in June, people are issuing the ubiquitous greeting of “Happy Father’s Day” to dads everywhere. One of the things this does for me, is it reminds me that it has been almost 30 years since I have had my father in my life. During the entire time I have been in the role of father, my own dad has been reduced to fragments of memory and a variety of snapshots. He was my primary influence, for better and worse, during the most influential years of my development. Then he was gone during the years I was trying to reenact the role he played for me. It has been an interesting challenge to unravel the traits that I unconsciously adopted and to strive to fill the voids in areas of inadequacy. Regardless, the strong bond of connection maintains a fascination for the man who was my father, and it leaves me with an ongoing feeling of loss and longing for the relationship. I would like to be able to tell him, “Happy Father’s Day” today.

I can’t seem to get there. I can post pictures, but I can’t seem to get back to the mode of conjuring up my old style of highly informative, incredibly intelligent, sometimes witty, occasionally relative, blog posts. I’ve got facts. Yesterday, I did my daily exercises for my back. I drove Cyndie to Tria orthopedic center, twice. I stopped in to work for about 3 hours to frantically address all issues in the constrained amount of time. We picked up a wheelchair for Cyndie. She tried to roll herself along with me while I took my required daily 1/2-hour walk to exercise my back. I pushed her most of the way. I received pictures and messages on my phone from Gary and friends up north on the bike trip. I drove to the drug store to drop off Cyndie’s prescriptions. I did dishes. I watched game 7 of the Stanley Cup championship game. Boston won.

We are getting by, but it’s not much to brag about. One bit of good news about Cyndie’s knee, they released her brace from the 30 degree locked position. She is allowed to bend her knee. At this point, it appears that straightening it all the way will be the hard part.

Enough about me. Oh, …just one minute, while I get Cyndie a mirror. …Okay, I guess it is about me. I have never been this active in my life. Up and down and up again. I am the kind of person that likes to settle into a spot and remain there. But, it is a labor of love to serve my lovely wife. In fact, this post really is about Cyndie, after all. She is facing the situation of the broken bones in her knee with wonderful grace. As each day passes, she seems to gain confidence using her crutches to navigate additional tasks. She has successfully driven herself in Julian’s Jeep. Yesterday morning she sat on a stool at the stove and cooked me breakfast. I had almost forgotten what that is like. She is getting out in the sun, using the new “tractor seat” on wheels that I bought her for playing in the yard. Meanwhile, we have noticed that the thick skin on the sole of the foot of her injured leg is beginning to slough off as a result of not being used.

There is progress in directions favored, and not so favored.

Today is the first day of the bike trip that I am not on. Color me sad about that. In seeking the best outlook regarding this dreary reality, I am currently focused on the fact that I get to sleep in my bed for the next week, instead of on the ground. Unfortunately, that falls far short of making up for what I am missing.

Cyndie is doing her best to entertain me by trying to beat me in a game of Scrabble on her iPad. Here she is scheming her next big word while Kitty opens one eye to see what I am doing. Kitty is being a good companion for Cyndie and has snuggled under the spot where Cyndie needs to prop her leg.

Yesterday evening, while I was enacting the therapist-prescribed daily 1/2-hour walk, it occurred to me that I would usually get a lot of walking in during the week of the bike trip. When we reach a destination, we tend to park our bikes and walk the towns. Sometimes we will walk a mile or two in search of an ice cream treat. My walks for the next week will have me thinking aplenty of the antics my friends will be engaged in without me.

I am missing them all, deeply.

Here’s the deal. Loyal readers may have detected a brief pause in the previous routine of daily posts here at Relative Something. My world has gone all topsy-turvy. Not only have we seen our chance to visit Ian and family in Portugal dashed by Cyndie’s broken bones, but now my annual bicycle trip has been spoiled by the pain in my lower back.

It is my desire that the trials and tribulations I am experiencing lately not be repeatedly narrated here. It is difficult for me to avoid creating a whining rant of “woe is me.” Meanwhile, I have lost the discretionary time, not to mention the positive energy, which previously provided the resource I tapped for posting daily. I have been doing a bit more work in the kitchen than when Cyndie was in charge of food prep.

Yet, something tells me there is value to be mined from the foibles that I have been facing of late, especially if I am able to reveal lessons that unfold. You might think that having Cyndie down to navigating on one leg would calm things a bit around here and allow me the chance to write more. Currently, the small opportunity I thought I might find has been disrupted by the Scrabble game she downloaded for her iPad.

This game is downright addicting. To top it off, I have had a real lucky streak going and haven’t lost a game to her since we started playing this electronic techno version. Not having beat me yet seems to drive her to want to play even more. In fact, every time I get a thought flowing while trying to compose this post, that device makes the little briiiink sound, and she passes me the pad.

My deal may just be that I will be presented with a lesson on being a good loser very soon. There’s probably a 7-letter word for that.