Unexpectedly, at 3:45 in the afternoon of my life, the supreme Father’s Day came tumbling out of the clearest blue sky, putting to shame the first forgettable 43.
My son Matt, the lone loyal star of the galaxy, ignited the momentum and Diane’s fragile, unpredictable health completed the circuit of a day that will live as long as I do, gilded in golden by the angelic presence of soft-spoken Kate, Diane’s world-class caregiver.
At this stage of fast-moving frailty, no events can be planned or assumed more than minutes in advance.
The day before, Diane, in the 14th month of her ALS diagnosis, had spent 21 hours in bed, too uncomfortable to surrender her lying-down position, so overwhelming was the crackling discomfort in her head and stomach.
We had been scheduled to travel to San Francisco yesterday for our monthly participation in a research clinic. Diane postponed it by one week because she wanted a traditional Father’s Day, family togetherness.
Her silver wand weaved magical hours that never can be anticipated, just enjoyed, drunk in with galloping gratefulness, moments of rare familyness washing over your bodies in the manner of a soapy, silently soothing shower.
At breakfast, Matt — owner of a soft, seldom-spoken, easy-going personality in contradistinction to his father — and I talked about his academic accomplishments. A self-starting achiever, he is pondering a career detour into art. Fittingly, his Father’s Day card was so decorated, complete with meaningful text and a gift he has known since toddler-hood that I treasure.
Before going home, Matt and I did chores together that we had not done together in decades.
When we arrived home, Diane health had stabilized enough for us to proceed with our loosely organized plans.
Joined by Kate, who has become a valued almost-family member in the past five months, we set out to explore the vast beauty and magnificent hidden corners of Los Angeles, since Kate is new to the city. Kate speaks even more quietly and less often than Matt.
When someone new is in the car, scenery with which you are intimately familiar takes on a refreshened, amped-up hue that paints a glow on every face and a lilt in every heart.
Back home in the early evening, we reflected, appreciated and locked those precious hours into a memory box, perhaps never to be opened again.
By the time we were well across town, Diane required immediate nutritional sustenance. Two of us formed a search party. We found manna in a comforting, welcoming ethnic neighborhood.
