Rising

Dad's off the ventilator today! Breathing on his own. I called Mom this afternoon and they had just removed the tube. We all rushed over to the hospital, whooping and cheering. He looked so tired but absolutely relieved to have it gone. He said "I can talk now. Not much, but I can talk." His voice is weak and at first it was hard to understand him but it was lovely to hear him anyway. We kept our visit short because he is still needing deep rest. We went back this evening and his voice was a bit stronger. He no longer has the feeding tube either. Just good old oxygen. He and Mom got to kiss. We asked him lots of questions. Do you know what happened? No. Do you want us to tell you? No, I'll just forget. Do you want to watch TV? Are you bored? I've been bored since the minute I came in here. Music? Yes. He listened to the player Rob had programmed for him with one ear and to us chattering with the other. He looked ready to doze off but he said he didn't want us to go. We stayed a bit longer but soon we had to say goodnight. We're all so happy and excited to see what tomorrow brings. His progress so far has been amazing.

I like this Russian painting of The Fire Bird. It makes me think of the Phoenix. Dad's the Phoenix. He's been through Something. He went right to the edge, burned through to the other side and now he's rising up from the bed of ashes. Dross consumed. Radiantly reborn, really. As we were entering the hospital this evening, I saw a group of young guys standing outside smoking cigars. A new baby, most likely. I realized I was smiling like a fool, anticipating seeing Dad. I had the same joyful feeling that accompanies a new baby. Life granted. So beautiful.