Carry That Weight

My grandmother, age 93, is resting comfortably today after undergoing surgery yesterday to remove a cancerous tumor. The burden on my father to coordinate her care and fill the void of last year's enormous loss of Grandpa has been great. Dad has rallied, organized and supported a team of cousins, friends, nurses and doctors to help manage his mother's care; all from nearly 2,000 miles away. He does so with humor, friendship, love and a remarkable capacity to curb his frustration as he deals with the bureaucracies and complexities of caring for a loved one from far away.

The love that my father has for his mother -- and her for him -- is a beautiful example of our capacity as humans to experience devotion and respect and appreciation throughout a lifetime. Just five minutes with them offers a glimpse of tenderness, concern, love and usually, a hearty laugh. She gave him the gift of total, unconditional love as she raised him and now he offers it back to her in spades.

The decision to operate on my 93-year old grandmother has weighed heavily on Dad, and it was hard for him to consider putting her very fragile body under the stress of surgery and recovery. I know he questioned it and worried over it, but apparently, it was the right decision to make. The relief for my father, and those who care about him and Grandma, is enormous.

++++++++++++

Some might consider my father's interest in YouTube videos to be yet another addition to the eccentricity column for my old man. On a semi-regular basis, Dad finds videos that he considers might be of interest to our boys and e-mails them to me. Over the past year, I've probably lost nearly a day of my life watching home-made videos that he's forwarded of animals at "watering holes"; tractors plowing wheat fields at record-breaking speed while backtracked to an Aerosmith song; and ancient folk singers scratching out decades-old recordings on tinny black and white film. Many of them I've viewed while shaking my head at my old man; many others have remained neglected in my in-box.

Today he sent us this little diddy from his i-phone, "Ikey", with the note that I may or may not want to share it with my boys. This generally means that they would probably get immense pleasure and delight from it, but that I might not want the behavior replicated in my living room.

He's thoughtful like that.

In fact, my father is one of the most thoughtful people I've ever known. Quirky, for sure, and absent-minded on occasion, but truly at the top of the list of thoughtful and caring human beings to ever walk this great, green earth.

And so today, while I watched this video, I thought of my Dad. Not just because he sent it, and not even because the Beatles will always remind me of my childhood lived to the soundtrack of Abbey Road. I was reminded of he Christmas when our family received a book on juggling and Dad learned a few tricks. Wham-bam, next thing you knew, the guy was constantly in motion. Oranges, apples, softballs, and small animals were tossed in the air -- much to the delight, laughter and cheers of us small kids.

I also thought of my dad as the man he is today: Juggling his mom, career, marriage, fatherhood, grandfatherhood, and the enormous heart of his that feels so much joy and pain. Carrying that weight a long time.

But, no matter how many balls in the air, TJ still makes me laugh and cheer for him.

This morning, Dad is sitting in a hospital watching over Grandma's golden slumbers, hoping to make it back home soon, and searching Ikey for some distraction. And I am still laughing and cheering for him.

Thank you, Dad. Thank you for showing me that the love you take is equal to the love you make.

+++++++++++++++++
In honor of my Dad and his 65th birthday that I did not acknowledge on the internet last week, I offer you this four minutes of spectacularness: