The Wryters' Block

Shaping, Designing, Sculpting Words

Superhero

Deutsch: Zentrale Heterochromie: Grüne Iris, u...

          My Dad, Superhero

No X-ray vision; no wall crawls; no costumes or racy vehicles;

no superhuman strength; no speed fast as a cheetah’s; no mind reading or spying into the future. Even so, my dad’s my superhero.

As a little girl, my dad nicknamed me Robin. I never discovered the reasoning behind it; it just always was, though the name never stuck with other family members.

Very strict, my dad expected the best from us children in attitude and behavior. He ruled his house with a heavy hand; whatever he said, the law. Even though we were not allowed a lot of freedoms, he loved to crack jokes and taught us how to draw faces that started out with a letter of the alphabet (a became an eye; the letter c, an ear).

Dad always controlled the TV; we watched what he watched. As a result, I became fascinated with westerns and wrestling, tuned in to those shows just as avidly as he did.

Why am I blogging about my dad, you may ask? Right now he lays in a hospital bed, now for weeks on end, and he is constantly in my thoughts and prayers. It saddens me to see Dad’s health decline, watch him drift further and further away from us.

If my silence or lack of presence here is noticeable, it is due to this critical family illness. Many of my days and some nights spent at the hospital, from the hospital’s large picture window, I can peer over rooftops, see clear across neighborhoods, and ponder about life. I pull a chair near Dad’s bed, hum and sing and read scriptures, hold and squeeze his hand.

If I could turn back time, sometimes I believe I would; other times, I’m not so sure. But then, more time with a superhero would be amazing.

If you could turn back time, would you?

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October 7, 2012 - Posted by | Life | , , , , , ,

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