little bros, poppo's, and albo's

I am an older sister to two little boys. Ayden is 3 and a half. Amari is sixteen months. I watched them last night as my stepmom took my dad to the hospital. Amari was asleep by the time I got there, so was Ayden; but he would be waking up soon. I was worried about my dad; but it is also a hard thing to get upset when you create such a wall of denial. My dad has been this stable rock for my entire life; good or bad I could go to him. Last night he was sick; and I think he was probably a little worried. My dad doesn't "do" sick. It does not fit into his schedule. It was one of the very few times I could consider my dad vulnerable. However, that thought was quickly fleeting. It was my dad; he is tough,he's going to be fine. It is so strange to grow up and not realize you are really growing up. I mean as children, we all have this responsibility to care for our parents when they need us. I just find it crazy that I am already at that age, where the idea is not as preposterous as it once appeared.

"Hi manda panda," Ayden interrupted my thoughts with his sleepy drawl. He had my heart and he knew it. I gave him a big hug.
"How bout some dinner please, manda panda?" Melting as he spoke I squeezed him a bit harder and started making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
"Where is mama?" he asked. Kids are smart and intuitive; much more than anyone gives them credit for. I told him that Dada was sick and that his mom took him to the doctors. It was apparent that was all the information he needed since he turned immediately back to his sandwich. We played for a little bit. Ayden played the guitar for me. We watched the Wiggles. It was past 9:30 at this point, way past Ayden's bedtime. I tucked him into his big boy bed, and shut off the light. The fan was on slow, causing a comfortable caress of air. I put the gate up so he could not run out of his room.

I turned on the television and queued up the TiVo record. Amari's cries are heard through the monitor and I think he will fall back asleep. He doesn't. I get up and go into his room only to find Ayden standing right next to Amari's bed saying, "get up amari? get up?" I tell ayden to leave amaris room. I hold Amari and calm him down. He falls asleep in seconds. Ayden apparently knows how to climb the babygate. We play this game on and off all night.

Pam (my stepmom) gets home shortly after 11pm. We talk for a little bit about my dad and how he is doing. We figured that they would probably admit him at this point. We all try and get some sleep. I wake up this morning to find out Alistar, the dog I brought out here when I came to go to college, is taking a turn for the worse. He was diagnosed with cancer a couple weeks ago. He has these tumors on his body that are exploding. He is marking the white carpet and tile floors with blood spots. The stains don't bother anyone; the bleeding does. I pet and hug the big albo. He is such an amazing dog. I hate death and dying. I am tired of its hovering over so many things that I love only to take them away quickly and silently.

I pick my dad up from the hospital. He calls me his pride and joy; I am beaming. I am glad I did not see him in a hospital gown. I think that may have been too hard. It is hard enough seeing the plastic bracelets around his wrist. The nurses congregate to say goodbye. He always has driven the women crazy. I am glad he is okay but I am sad that the spell of the insurmountable father is gone. Pam, my dad and I sat around back at the house hugging and loving Albo. I sit now hoping that wasn't the last time that I would ever see him. I am heartbroken. It seems a lifetime ago that we were together; my dad, albo and I. Almost 8 years ago. My dad is now remarried with children. I am still here and Alistar is becoming a shadow of himself. Time keeps its continuum. We all hold on to those thoughts of innocence, and purity, hope and renewal. We all just hold on.