The biggest hurdle

Well, apparently no good day goes unruined right now.

Right after I put up yesterday's post I got a call from Dad's friend T.

T was visiting Dad yesterday and had rung me prior to going in. Hhad found out how lucid Dad was and - as we all are - was v. concerned about Dad asking him questions about Kimberly. I told him that we (the family) had talked about it and we felt like one of us should tell Dad BUT since I will not have people lie to daddy I told T this: Try to avoid the subject, if he asks "where is Kimberly?" then tell him you don't know (the truth) but if he says: "Is my wife dead?" or "Is Kimberly OK?" or similar then, again, just tell him the truth ("yes" and "no").

Well, apparently their whole visit was punctuated by Dad asking uncomfortable questions. T said that he asked for his bookbag and cellphone so that he could call Kimberly (he had asked me just 3 hours before if I had his cell phone, but then seemed satisfied when I said I had it and didn't say any more about it).

The night shift nurse said that Dad knew he had been in an accident and that Kimberly was driving, that it was the Corvette (thus his question to me about where it was), and that someone had hit them. She said that he was "asking constantly" for a cellphone to call his wife or for someone to call her.

Why didn't he ask me all these questions? I was THERE. I was prepared to calmly answer anything and give him the whole story. I've been steeling myself for this moment since Thanksgiving!

I'm so sorry that T had to be put on the spot and I'm more frustrated than you can imagine that Dad still doesn't know, that he's asking questions and not getting answers. It makes me want to scream and cry that I can't be up there right now. (A feeling that was NOT helped by the nurses saying "someone really needs to come up here and tell him." in a dissapproving tone. Easy for you to say, honey, you don't live 4 and a f*$%ing half hours away and have a family to take care of.)

Aaaaaghhh!

Anyway, Kimberly's Dad will be going up there tomorrow and there's no better person to tell him although it hurts my heart that he'll have to be up there by himself.

Y'know it's kind of surreal. This is one of those "where were you when ..." events and I won't be there. It's my duty, my job to be there for Dad when he needs me. He's getting the worst news of his life and I'll be hundreds of miles away in an antiseptic-smelling waiting room listening to muzak and reminding my 2 year old to not hit the fishtank.

Yeah, I'm doing a great job.