I have not spoken to my father on the phone in 19 days and 10 hours. Our last phone call lasted only 3 minutes and 26 seconds. This is the longest span of time without speaking to my Dad in my entire adult life. I have attempted to call. I dial his number each day. I have set up times to coordinate a phone call, and yet, I have not spoken to my father in 19 days and 10 hours.
My Dad cannot remember how to answer his phone. Sometimes I think he may have accidentally just turned it off. But that is not the case. He picks it up. He looks at it. But he does not answer it. And my heart breaks.
When I last saw my father, almost a month ago, he was funny at times, confused at times, sad at others. He says he's lonely, even as I held his hand. He doesn't eat much, preferring to snack on chocolate pudding or Snickers bars-his taste for anything but sweets is gone. His voice shakes. His hands shake.
My Dad and I spoke on the phone almost every day, up until just a few months ago. We would talk about everything: politics, my friends, my boys, Colorado, Elk Rapids, weather, books, always books, movies. He would read interesting articles to me over the phone. Sometimes he would call me late at night, waking me and scaring the daylights out of me. And we would chat. One night, just last fall, close to midnight(which was close to 2 am for him!) he called and his first words were, "Suz, I'm looking at my atlas and I have a little quiz for you." I wiped the sleep from my eyes and, with a smile on my face, took his quiz.
I used to dance with my Dad when he came home from work. I stayed up late in high school with him to watch Johnny Carson. He would drive me to school and I would walk down the hallway with him to his classroom. I was proud to walk next to him. Everyone loved Mr Ruggles..he made them laugh. He taught us to think. He challenged and inspired us.
I can still hear the sound of my Dad's voice, strong and sure, supportive and loving. Now his voice is weak, scared and slurred. But he is there, my childhood dance partner, my lifelong reading partner, my political mentor, my shoulder to cry on, my cheerleader. His soul is there and the love in his eyes is still bright.
At the end of my last trip to Michigan last month, I sat with my Dad in his room. I tucked his blankets in around his tiny body. I fixed his pillows just how he liked them. I covered him with blankets. I assured him that he was ok, that he was safe. Then I sat on the edge of the bed, holding his hand. I leaned down and kissed him on the cheek and laid my head on his chest. He lifted his arm weakly and rested it on my shoulders. My big, strong Daddy was so small..life had come full circle. But for that moment, I was his little girl again and we breathed in our love.
I have not had a phone call with my Dad in 19 days and 10 hours. And every night before I fall asleep I talk to him. I tell him how much I love him, that I miss him. I tell him he is the greatest man I'll ever know. I let him know that being his child is the greatest gift. I assure him that I will remember all of his lessons, that I know the right thing; he taught me well. I thank him, for all of it, his belief in me, his heart, his wisdom and his fierce love for me and my siblings. Lately, I fall asleep with tears on my pillow and that strong voice in my ears. I hear that laugh and the corny jokes and the silly songs. I remember the words of advice and encouragement. I cherish the conversations and the easy silences. And my heart breaks.
