Perspective

Easter came and went this past weekend. My dad was competitive, he always had to win. He was also usually the judge. This transferred to later in my life, when he played judge, jury, and executioner when I had been out past curfew. But Easter eggs did not escape his grasp of: things I must win at. And, realistically? He was probably kicking our butt anyway. So we knew that this year would be a bit rough, because last year he was here. He was coloring eggs with us. He was sitting at the table and yelling and still proclaiming he was going to kick our butts at the contest. Where, to be honest, we had no shot. But there were also no prizes. So, there's that.

The Friday before Easter, my grandma called from the hospital and said she thought she had a stroke and was in the ER. (Spoiler alert: She is settling back in at home and doing well, so no worries, folks!) Just to prove that we are crass and terrible with all family emergencies, here is quick view at the messages between my sister and I. 

Her: So, apparently Grandma had a mini stroke, wtf? 
Me: Yeah. That's why I was asking if you had talked to mom, to make sure she had told you.
Her: So Dad's gone and now she has to be an attention hog?
Me: I know. I told Mom she was just trying to get out of making the dressing for Easter.
Her: She must have been out of sage. 

A few Easters ago, Grandma made her (seriously delicious) dressing and it was spicy. She said, "I must have been a little heavy handed with the sage." She may never live it down. But we ate (and loved it) anyway. So, I think she's in the clear to keep her "Best Dressing" title in our family. Although, seriously Grandma - all you had to do was ask us to bring you some sage. You didn't have to go and do all of that!

This development also meant that we were going to spend another holiday in another hospital. We're getting good at it. Off the top of my head I can recall: 

• Eating Thanksgiving dinner in the hospital at the University of Chicago
• Making dad's favorite meatloaf muffins and taking them to UIC for Father's Day
• My parents celebrating July 4th AND their anniversary at the Rehab Institute of Chicago
• An anniversary of theirs at Porter Regional Hospital
• My sister's birthday where my Dad was one of the first patients moved to Porter's new location
• An Easter at a skilled nursing facility/rehab center in Chesterton, Indiana
• Dad's birthday at the Rehab center at St. Mary's in Hobart

I'm sure I'm missing a few, but you get the drift. We are experts at making and transporting food to wherever the holiday is. As I said in a text message to my aunt on Easter when I sent her a picture of the spread: "You can't even have a stroke and get out of a family dinner. We will find you and hunt you down." 

Before we packaged (not so well by the look of the yams over there) dinner and took it to Grandma, my mother and I were inside cooking and my sister was outside, with a huge bubble wand blowing bubbles. She stuck her head in the door, "Come out here!" I grumbled a little bit, because we had been cooking all morning. 

My mom said "Go outside and play with your sister." 

"Uh, you know she's 22 and I'm 32, right?" 

She didn't even bat an eyelash and replied, "Yes. Now go." 

I went outside and spent much longer than I should admit, blowing bubbles with my younger sister. I'm glad I did. Because it brought back memories. The ones from being a little kid and blowing bubbles with Dad. (see: The Great Bubble Incident) But also because it reminded me of a few Easters back, when Dad was with us and in a rehab facility in a skilled nurse home. He hadn't spoken in awhile and we took bubbles with us on Easter - blowing them at him in a pretty transparent attempt to annoy him enough to speak to us. He didn't, that Easter. But by last Easter, he was back home and completely with us. Coloring those eggs. And annoying us right back by claiming he would win. He only had the use of one arm at the time, but he was still going to beat us. To be honest? Even when he was wheelchair bound and bed bound at the end? He still probably thought he could have beaten us in a 50 yard sprint. ...even if that meant he made one of us push him so he could. 

It also gave me some time to think. Bubbles are a lot like our time and memories with our loved ones. 

Sometimes they're beautiful.

Sometimes there's just one or two over that a ways - that drift out away from us, but we can still see them. 

They float away. The moments aren't going to last forever.

But the memories of them are. And we have some really beautiful ones.

Often, they come back and they feel like they are righthereinourface.

And sometimes, we have one that sticks with us - that's different - that makes you change your perspective a bit.

All the time I spent with my Dad and my family that was there to love and support him - it has changed my perspective in ways I can't put into words - and quite possibly in ways I haven't even begun to comprehend, yet. 

Three years ago? I wouldn't have even imagined I would have had so many stories about how to maneuver through (and to new) hospitals, how to deal with rushing food to your father in Chicago to make sure he got his favorite meal for Father's Day. Or how to handle when your Grandma calls to tell you she thinks she had a stroke. But now - we know. We know how to navigate a situation that could (and often does) bring families to their knees. We know how to survive. And, most importantly, we know how to do so while having a good time, and still cherishing every moment.  

We colored eggs that day. I think I finally won this time, Dad. 

And we made more beautiful, and definitely perspective-changing memories. We laughed with Grandma so hard that it hurt in the most beautiful way possible, as we tried to take hospital Easter selfies. Here's just a small glimpse at the "better" ones. No, really. We are that bad. 

But more than anything? We had a moment. One that we won't forget. And not just because a kid asked me if my hair was dyed green for Easter. (It's blue, kid, jeez.) But because we realized that no matter what? We will be okay. And along the way - we will stop to blow bubbles, to laugh, and to take some terrible hospital selfies. And don't worry, the bubbles went with us too. 

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to buy my grandmother some sage, so we don't have this problem again.