Spent most of the day in the car. Dad was in Florida for most of the
week at a science conference for work. My mother, aging, and not as able
to take care of herself as before, needed my help for most of the week.
She was sad and depressed most of the time he was gone. Today was the
day that he came back.
I had to be at the shop at
around 9:00 am, so we could leave at 10:00 am. I ate a terrible
breakfast at McDonald's consuming way more calories than I should have. I
am having a difficult time figuring out how to do the basics of caring
for myself in an appropriate way. I eat too much, eat the wrong things,
don't sleep well, and hardly ever exercise. Now, in my forties, I am
paying the price for years of bad habits. I know I need to change, but I
am way less certain about what those changes are. How should I go about
fixing things when I don't know which path will take me to where I want
to go. Life and its demands, does not seem to provide easy answers, and
our society is very dis-inclined to provide any for free.
The
drive up to the airport, about a two hour drive with traffic, was
pleasant enough. Mom and I spoke about history. Family history, history
of the nation, and the various calamities the world is afflicted by and,
like me, does not seem to know what the cause of the trouble is, or how
to go about fixing it. Mom was tired. Worn out by her week without Dad.
She insisted on accompanying me on the journey, when I could have very
well done it by myself. Initially, she intended to have lunch along the
way, but as traffic increasingly became heavier, she decided it was
better to have lunch at the airport.
Finally, we made it,
and I made sure that we used the terminal's short term parking. The day
was bright, warm, and gradually becoming hotter. The airport terminal
was cool enough though. Mom was in her grandmother's wheelchair, so I
wheeled her over to the big electronic screens announcing the arrivals
and departures. Dad was scheduled to arrive in less than an hour. She
was hungry for lunch, and most of the restaurants weren't not suitable
to her. She didn't like "Beaches," nor the Bar & Grill on the other
side of the vendor area. We settled on Panda Express, cheap Chinese
style fast food. I wheeled Mom through the line while she made her
choices, and then, for convenience sake, I paid for everything.
We
were surrounded by people everywhere. It was interesting to see the mix
of people passing by, young and old, tall and short, fat, skinny, rich,
poor, in every human shape and color. Mostly, I was focused on Mom. I
was having the kind of quality time with Mom that I am afraid of one day
not having any more. Again, always at the back of my mind, I am
conscious of being on a type of life precipice, slipping towards the
edge of a disaster, I do not know how I will cope with when it comes.
And yet, every human life will one day have to face a challenge like
this. We cannot avoid the harsh realities of life. Perhaps, if more of
us were committed to exercising more compassion towards one another, the
harshness of life could be lessened. Giant societal changes aimed at
softening the hard blows life aims at our hearts, chilling us, wounding
us to our deep hurt. Homelessness, Lovelessness, Compassionlessness,
Callousness: all of the ills that afflict a human soul.
One
of the things I regret about being poor, having financially ruined my
own life, is my inability to make my parents life easier. They have much
and would not accept too much help from me in any case. They have
helped me beyond any ability I could have ever have to repay it. I know
this. Feel this deeply. It makes these moments where Mom has been so sad
and depressed this week, tired out from her knees hurting, unable to
walk for very long, difficult for me to endure when I think of what
could have been had I more money to alleviate some of the trouble, or
make them pass a bit more smoothly.
Lunch passed
pleasantly, and it was time to wait for Dad. The TSA had taken over a
significant portion of the airport since I had last been there, and the
waiting areas had changed. As Dad had flown on Delta, we had to wait by
the Delta ticket areas, in a make-shift waiting area by the windows,
under the afternoon sun. I spoke with Mom a little about the people
passing by, about how nice it will be to see Dad, and wondered with her
about the various facets of his trip.
He texted her
when he landed, so we moved up closer to the aisle where people were
arriving from their planes. I lined Mom up in her wheelchair to a
prominent corner waiting for the moment when he showed up. When he did
minutes later, he was already on top of us. I did not see him pass
through the doors, and only noticed him when he was feet from us. Mom
and Dad hugged, and we made our way back across the airport, stopping at
the restrooms first before leaving.
The traffic back
was horrendous. Various bridge and freeway work had made travel through
the city achingly slow. Most of our trip on the highway that skirted
most of the city went along at ten miles an hour or so. There was not
many moments where the speed got above that. Questioning Dad, I
discovered that he had not actually had lunch on the plane like Mom had
thought. Therefore, I took mom and dad through a detour to McDonalds for
a hamburger. Dad also ordered a chocolate shake. I ordered an Iced
Tea.
The rest of the trip home was mostly uneventful.
There were various things that I had to do later that day. Deliver
something to one sister, take another sister downtown to the city
festival, close up the shop and turn off the water. But none of it was
important enough to really remember or note.
Mom and
Dad had determined to go to bed early. Dad to catch up on sleep from his
jet lag, Mom to catch up sleep from her difficult sleep this past week
without Dad. I left town again for an evening obligation to draw (a
regular Friday habit to try and improve my life), perhaps my last
drawing event for awhile. My mind was still pondering my struggles with
trying to transform my life, and the impermanence of the future, and the
finality of the past. The worst thing about human life, for me, for my
thoughts right now, is how every mistake is firmly locked in the past.
How things I did or failed to do are locked into an unchangeable past,
and seem to me like streaks of india ink spilled onto a beautiful
carpet. I have tried to scrub out the worst of it, but it refuses to
fade or go away. I often pray to God to help me transform and become the
person that I consciously want to be: to be more worthy, to be good, to
be useful and help people make the world easier and better for those
who struggle.I often fear that I will be locked into habits that will
not change, impulses that will not fade and die away. After much
thinking, I believe that the best I can do is have hope for the future,
to persevere. Even if I do or did bad, I will only truly and finally
fail if I give up and stop trying to make it better. Please God, help me
become a true, worthy human being, and not just a physical creature
afflicted by fears and failures, seeking only to satisfy my impulses and
selfishness, but instead to become a spiritual being moved by
heavenly-gifted virtues that serve to make the world better, to become a
fragrant flower of divine attributes, lending my uniqueness, whatever
that might be, to the flourishing garden of a better humanity.