A Mom and A Dad

Eric called me tonight. To let me know that he will be leaving for Florida for a few weeks and that he is afraid to leave Kirsten and the girls with precious little time left.

His muscles are freezing up in this cold winter weather and with Kirsten at work and the girls at school, Eric cannot be alone. Danny, his cousin & best friend, invited him to stay in his home in Fort Myers for the next couple of weeks. Mariah is relieved to see her dad go to warmer climates and to have Danny there for her dad around the clock.

Back in November, when Eric was diagnosed with ALS/Lou Gehrig’s Disease, I told him I needed to talk to him. The two of us as parents, about Mariah’s future. Eric informed me today that we need to have our talk soon … that he may have only one, two or three weeks left where he can talk in life. Lou Gehrig's will soon steal his ability to speak.

A couple of thoughts collide in my mind and the tears begin to pour. First, I am not ready for this conversation needing to take place so quickly. What happened to time?  Second, it was only a year ago that I had my last parenting conversation with Keith about Brooke before his suicide. A “last” conversation forever etched in my mind.

This time, Mariah’s dad. I have a window of time that is ending too quickly.

This conversation and those realizations hit as I am driving home from work on 77 South as I am approaching the CAK exit. I can’t speak. He can't either. Seconds pass and I cry, “I hate this” and he agrees.

The next 45 minutes we talk about a video that needs to be made for Mariah’s wedding day … a day he won’t be around for. We discuss college, health insurance, their finances through this ordeal and Eric shares with me conversations he has had with Mariah with guidance on what he wants for her as far as her financial security and her happiness in her future.

He tells me again how guilty he feels that Brooke will lose another male-figure and that he prays for Brooke all the time that someone will step up and fill that role in her life. A role that he helped fill along with my dad and brother, a year ago.

Eric wants to get a Facebook page and connect with old friends he hasn’t seen in years. We talk about friends he has recently seen that were our friends 23 years ago when we started dating.

I’m thankful that Eric and I are both open with each other, a mom and a dad sharing a daughter, talking about critical issues and crying together. Letting bygones be bygones.

I sit in my garage for a ½ hour unable to get out of the car so Mariah & Brooke cannot overhear our conversations. God knows I am not ready for this, but it is going to happen out of a timeline I am even remotely okay with.

Our conversation ends, I walk into my home and needed a significant other there, for me. I needed someone to talk to, a heart-to-heart partner because I couldn’t stop crying or get my act together for my girls.

There is one person, besides my parents, that is a rock in my life.

Bobby.

After the trauma of Keith’s suicide and the phone call of Eric’s diagnosis, he is always my 2^nd call after my mom & dad. When trauma hits, there is a small intimate group I will reach out to. It is defining moments in life and those you turn to during crisis that defines friendships.

Bobby is a source of strength, a voice of reason and a rock when I have nothing left. He has been in my life for four years. We are not exclusive nor do we need to be … comfort, familiarity, a partner, just a phone call away. It works for us.

I cried and exhausted my thoughts, he listened. He gave me a great suggestion for a video for Eric to do for Mariah.

Empty. Exhausted. Emotionally drained.

Lou Gehrig’s has no mercy.

A mom and a dad.

God, please give us more time.