Today is the second day of my father's stay in Intensive Care. He has been ill for some time and this trip to the hospital is the second serious episode in a matter of weeks. It is nothing we have not been building ourselves up for, and we have expected his decline for some time.
Yesterday, he did not recognize me or my sister.
I have found myself in dire need of distraction and have found it by occupying myself with stitching and sketching, with my schoolwork, but also with memories of my childhood. They were not always good memories. In fact the better part of those years were difficult, namely because of another illness that took even more years from Dad. Alcoholism.
It is a funny thing when you sit and think about times past. You think about those times that you would rather forget, but lurking just underneath are good memories too. I have worked very hard in the last couple of years to allow those memories the space they deserve in my mind.
I would one day like to find myself with enough peace to reach into the darker memories, too, and finish my path to healing where they are concerned. I like to think I have forgiven, but sometimes I am not certain I have. I most certainly have not forgotten.