Out of the Loop

For many days now (10 days to be exact) I have avoided writing. It's not that I haven't want to or that I didn't have anything to say -- it was just fear. Fear of opening up too much, expressing too much of my pain (or happiness) and simply, maybe fearing it wasn't good enough. Well, tonight out of the blue, I sit here and just know what to write, but please be patient with me as I'm new at this........this week has been very hard for me. I have been taking my parents to doctor appointments and bank outings. My father was recently diagnosed with Parkinson's disease and from the moment the doctor confirmed it -- "it" (the Parkinson's disease) has attacked my dad's body at full force. His legs are tighter than ever making his walking very difficult. His speech is slower and harder to understand. His focus is so off that it often annoys me (I know he can't help it and I know he doesn't do it to bother me) BUT it still does. And the very moment I lose it (which by the way is NOT always) I immediately feel sad and guilty. I have a sad cloud that circles my daily existence. However, I don't let it show because, you see, I'm an only child and I'm the leader of our household. If I let my emotions surface I will be in trouble. I will cry every time my dad looks at me or when I see him trying to get up from a chair and not be able to do it. I will cry because I know how terribly sad my dad is at seeing himself slowly lose every independent motion of his body (and mind). He has always taken care of me from the moment he laid his beautiful dark eyes on me at the hospital in Havana. And those eyes have watched me grow up into a very responsible woman. A woman who dearly loves her father.

The pain continues on another day. It takes my dad 3 hours to get ready to head into NYC where he will retrieve a cd that has matured. At first, I didn't think much of what I had to do. I thought it would be simple to drive him to the bank, help him up the stairs and be there to assist with any of the paper work. It wasn't simple though -- from the minute my dad started to speak to the women at the bank, his tears started. I wasn't sure what I should do nor did Mercedes, the bank manager. You see, all these women have known my dad --the very handsome, debonair Cuban fellow -- for over 30 years. And now he is standing there looking very frail and weak. As if this wasn't enough, he now has to deal with the ugly side of reality.....money. All of his savings are dwindling down to nothing and the little that he does have, he wants to try to leave for me. All the tears I want to show are SO hard to hold back BUT I do. It is now that I cry, quietly by myself.