dad as the dad

i never remember my dad being around when we were sick. mom found that quite convenient. i only remember being sick once in my youth, and not making it to the bathroom. i called out. dad answered and then ran away. fast. my brother paid back his negligence by once throwing up over the interior of the back passenger door and the power lock never let dad forget as it kept for many years after a funny squeak. but dad really couldn't handle it less he be sick himself and burden mom with twice the mess to clean. he complained he could not help his weak stomach any more than his early hair loss. mom rolled her eyes.

i grew up associating myself with my strong-willed, able-bodied mother until i became pregnant with caleb. i have a new respect for my dad now. there's no doubt i have inherited more than just his unique gene mutations.

the flu struck caleb down in the prime of easter's season. vern handled the mess over the weekend, but come monday - i sat on the couch with the little man and his trusty bucket all day. i held his head when he got sick and rubbed his back and counted my blessings that his stomach was pretty empty by that point.

and i was thinking. it had to be junior high when i became horribly ill. mom was taking courses for her lpn in the evening, working nights and keeping the house afloat, us kids clothed and fed all by herself. it seems i became sick over a weekend visit to grandpa's an hour south in omaha where dad was residing. helping on the office end out of grandpa's basement the family farm/ranch/bank operations. that or mom brought me down and handed me off to the husband that was just be-bopping around a home office anyway with grandpa's housekeeper, mattie, cleaning and cooking...

i don't remember much of it other than how i existed in grandpa's big arm chair watching tv with a bucket beside me. the extreme sick. and dad. who somehow never got sick himself. who actually hung out with me. who called mom the second or third day concerned that while my stomach finally seemed somewhat settled, i needed to go to the hospital. mom directed him to have mattie pick up some thera-flu. mattie did, and i remember quite clearly how much i did not want to have anything to do with it. dad called mom and said he thought it was a bad idea. mom reminded him she was still the mom. dad pleaded with me and then gave me the phone. mom reminded me she was the mom. i tried the thera-flu, and woe was me. i had actually begun to feel slightly better, and then. oh. bad.

i'll never forget dad's expression. pissed at himself for not being the dad in that moment with a hint of vindication for being right. when i realized my situation - sick under dad's care, i felt some consolation that at least mattie would be around here and there to make sure i did not die. i suffered through the fog and haze of extreme ill and emerged to discover this dad who actually parented. somehow in my misery we bonded. just a little. and i did go to the hospital where mom met us and held my hand as the iv fluids coursed through.

she was the mom after all.

she apologised for making me take the thera-flu. and followed up that dad shouldn't have had me take all of it. dad went back to his bachelor pad and i home with mom to my brother and the world spun.

but those 3 or 4 days with dad, sick, were huge. i couldn't put it in his obit, but i sure did want to list it alongside his college degree... "cared for daughter all by himself when she was throwing up green".