It's 12:48 pm...time to come clean.
Today has been filled with tasks aimed at keeping my hands and mind busy. Busy enough to drown out the small still voice inside of me that is throwing me into a bona fide state of guilt.
Here's what I've done so far:
baked banana nut bread
flipped the mattress on my bed
rearranged books in my closet
washed, dried and put away dishes
cleaned the bathroom
...and I've only been up for 6 hours. If I keep up this pace, I'm going to collapse before the day is over.
So, here's the deal. My stepdad has been gravely ill. He's been in congestive heart failure for more than a decade and his health has slowly declined. Seven weeks ago, he had a heart attack and has been in the hospital, then a nursing home for rehab and back to the hospital...where he is now. To say this has been a difficult time is an understatement.
I consider Bill my Dad, even though he and my Mom didn't marry until I was in my mid-twenties. He's a good man and he's been good to my Mom. He's also been very good to me; showing me over and over again what it means to be a father. I love him for this and for the imperfect person he is.
All the love and medical knowledge in the world is not going to strengthen his heart. He's not going to recover from this last heart attack. His mind is with us, but his body is shutting down and I wish he would just slip away. That's a nice way of saying I wish he would die.
I don't need to expound upon my guilt surrounding this wish. I'll have to work through it the only way I know how...shed some tears and find peace in being human.