These days have been tough.
Charlie’s dad, Dean Edwards, is 92 and in the final stages. Literally, it could be any hour. We’ve been making the hour and ten minute trek to Springfield and back, staying overnight when we can, and holding our phones close, just in case.
Charlie, of course, is closer to the emotional turmoil than I am, but I feel it all the same. I remember when my mom passed away (September 15, 2009). Everything felt both surreal and nightmarish. There was no day or night and there certainly wasn’t any semblance of a normal schedule.
That is us now.
I think I made mention of posting an interview last Thursday (January 3rd), but to be honest, I don’t remember much of Thursday, except that we were traveling to Springfield with the belief that it was Dean’s last day. It wasn’t, thankfully, but it turned out to be a very long and arduous night.
We are supposed to go back to work tomorrow (Monday), getting ready for the spring semester – hiring new student workers, shelving books, and going about a normal routine when everything else in life feels far from normal. I’ve been making some feeble attempts at routine – keeping up with laundry, going to the store to make sure there is food in the house, and even hitting the gym a couple times. The motions are there, but the desire and feelings are not.
It’s a waiting game where there are no winners. Just uncertainty, emptiness, and lackluster attempts to keep our boat afloat.