The Phantom of the Opera....

I talked to Dad yesterday.  He was asleep, but I asked the nurse to wake him up.  He sounded groggy and his voice was deep and his words slurred.  Normally, I hate talking to Dad when he sounds like that, but I have not spoken with him since Christmas.  I wanted to visit with him one more time before we left California...but our visiting and traveling schedule was just too hectic.  I really wanted to erase that negative visit from Christmas...

I must have awakened him in the midst of one heck of a provocative dream.  I apologized for waking him and asked him how he felt.  He told he was feeling pretty sexy...

Now, talking sex or any subject relating to sex has never been a subject Dad was ever comfortable discussing with me...or anyone in the family for that matter... when I was a child, I had heard the "F" bomb for the first time.  I asked my Dad what it meant. Being a self proclaimed Farmer, he proceeded to bore and confuse me silly when he launched into various species of animals, flowers and something about fertilizer.  I lost interest, and it wasn't until years later before I received the explanation from one of my preteen friends...

Dad was telling me about the reality of purity and it seemed every other word was passion. He told me he had been enjoying the epitome of what he has to share with his dream girl.  I am not sure if that was Katie Couric, his favorite aide, or Mom...but it really didn't matter to me.  If it gives him some pleasure and happiness, go for it Dad...

He asked me if I felt it was wrong...and I told him reality is relative.  He told me, "I feel like the Phantom of the Opera"...  His comment almost stopped my heart...

I could not help the tears welling and cascading down my cheeks.  The thought of him sleeping more to enjoy a richer life... to dream of a woman who loves him and he loves her...those precious moments shared between a man and a woman, that so many take for granted.  Dad will never experience that in real time, only in his dreams.

So many activities and moments he will never experience again...yet, knowing Dad, he does his best to make the most of what he does have... It is so easy for us to say, "this is no way to live"...but to him, every day is precious, because life, being alive, is everything when you consider the alternative...he has a strong will to live.

Almost every conversation with him, he tells me how Blessed he is...

I think back to last May when I stayed with him, and I am so very grateful for that time.  Even though it was emotionally draining and physically exhausting, there were moments...like when we would sit down after dinner and have Bible Study together.  The look on his face when I read to him, and the sound of his reverent voice as he read to me.  The way he would enjoy a cup of coffee.  Watching him through the kitchen window, doing what he loved to do, puttering around in the back yard...

Despite how off he was these past several years, the precious memories of Dad, when he was my real Dad, keeps me going during these difficult times... I love you Dad.