The good news is that dad is getting through the nights better. The bad news and/or relief is that the end should be coming closer and nearer. I have to laugh that I do the night shift and get four hours of sleep to wake up to a diaper change (for the politically correct – underwear, briefs, incontinence barriers, accident pads, padded shorts, etc.), and then I get to make a cup of coffee. I feel badly in that I have to move my dad, but despite his seeming lack of awareness, he is aware we are merely trying to help him with whatever time he has here.
I looked out the window down a street I grew up on where there was sandlot baseball and football fields and woods where we must have spent a lot of time making tree forts and houses long before the tv shows made them famous. When I looked down the street, there were 6 young kids playing football in an empty field.
The sight had me smile as it appears everything in many kids lives, particularly in upscale or urban environments is organized. The league and the soccer moms and dads all look to the NFL or MLB and try to make their 7-year-old fell like he is in the big leagues before their hand-eye coordination evolves. I did watch a nieces game, and if they got two strikes, they would put a
“tee” up so the kid could hit the ball. Each player had their logo shirt, number, some teams had the kids name emblazoned on the backs. I saw more utterly worthless expenditure in money from parents with overprices shoes, muscle tape, compression wear, and gloves that were not to catch a baseball. Actually, I was amazed.
This morning, I watched 6 young boys playing in the mud, in a field, no pads, no fancy jersey, uniforms, or sponsors. They were simply playing for the sake of having fun. No parents were screaming at umpires or other parents. It was just kids playing. it was beautiful to witness in a world that seems to be losing the deeper meaning of “play’ and “playing.”
Now that I think about it. None of them had to stop to look at a cell phone, text anyone, do a selfie video for social media posts, or have a friend on the sideline broadcast the session.
they kids were just playing, laughing, screaming, hollering, running, jumping, juking….sandlot football.
An email just clicked and a monk that I got to meet a few years ago that live inside two majestic canyon walls. They live a spartan life and are probably happier than most of the folks I know. I broke down when they said, “sure, we are happy to pray for your dad!” why the tears? I guess it is because beyond here, there is something indescribable called pure love. Most of the time, we can’t see it here on earth as we are too busy trying to control life. But once you get a taste, you realize the fortunate ones are those departing.
Then again, unless you have been in hell on earth, I doubt you will understand “religion is there for the people afraid of going to hell. spirituality is for those who have already been to there.”