We’re finally home, after a long, long day. I’m so exhausted I can barely stand it. We need to figure out how to get both the Butcher and me home for as little hassle as possible, which should be a fairly easy thing to figure out, but I swear to god, it’s like the most complex math problem possible. Say you have two people who need to get to Nashville in a car and one needs to leave this weekend and the other can leave next weekend. How do you get them both home for as cheap as possible? I’ve decided, for starters, that I will not go home on Wednesday and try to drive back up here on Sunday so that the Butcher can drive home on Sunday and turn around and drive back up here to get me the next weekend.
But does he drive home this weekend and drive back up here to get me the next weekend or do we fly me home and, if so, how to get me to the airport?
I have no fucking idea, but we all drew various diagrams and stared and them and then finally gave up.
The first time we went in to see my dad, I about couldn’t stand it. He was hooked up to a million tubes and wires and cords and had a tube down his throat and just wanted someone to wipe the gross stuff off his tongue, so I did, because that’s what you do. It was all I could do to not just break down right there in the room, watching things leak out of him and drip into him and such. But, somehow, miraculously, I held it together.
About an hour later, we went back in and they had him sitting up and the tube was out and he was talking. I told him that his brother had called and he asked, “Uncle Blaine?” and the Butcher and I joked it off, because we couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. The longer we were in the room, though, the more it became apparent that he was still very out of it. He knew we were family, but I’m not sure he knew for certain who we were, and I’m pretty sure he didn’t remember that Uncle Blaine is dead. That about tore my heart out.
And then, the third time we went in, I rubbed his head for a while and we talked and my mom told him the same thing she told him every time she went in and he nodded again, so maybe it works for them. Then Mom said “I love you” and I said “I love you” and he looked at me and said “Do you really?” and I said, “I’m here, aren’t I?” and he said, “Then where’s my son-in-law?” and I laughed and he said, “How am I going to retire if you don’t give me a son-in-law? A rich one?” And that broke my heart, too, but for different reasons.