It's been about five years since my dad died. Among the multitude of thoughts and feelings this caused was an increased awareness of my own eventual death. This is, I think, a natural part of grieving a parent. There's now a gap where the generation between me and death used to exist. A buffer that guarantees nothing in terms of actual life and death, but still feels significant.
I was elated to learn that I would be a dad. Well, first I was confused because I thought Kate was showing me a Covid test. But shortly after the confusion wore off I was really excited. Over the months that followed, I also noticed that those pesky reminders of my own mortality kept creeping up. Granted, my body did a fine job of reminding me as well. Almost exactly a year before Kate told me we would be having a baby, I had a stroke. Thankfully the cause was identified and a minor heart surgery corrected the issue. Still the heart and the brain are two pretty important organs, and both of mine had failed me, if only in a small way. It was more than enough to expose once again what a thin line there is between existing and not.
So into that backdrop comes this new, still unnamed addition. I've felt him move under my hand and kick at the sound of my voice. We have a relationship. More importantly, I will soon have a much bigger share of the responsibility for keeping him alive. And, as the old airline safety demonstration reminds us, in order to provide assistance to others, we must first care for ourselves.
You might think the next paragraph is about how I've changed everything about my life in order to preserve it. Nope. You might also think that this realization is so anxiety-provoking that I've been paralyzed. Not quite. Instead I'm sort of toggling between two things: being fully present and cognizant and appreciative of the current moment, and keeping in mind how my in-the-moment decisions shape my future health. And all the while, I'm remembering the great Dr. Perry Cox, reminding me that everything I'm doing is a stall...just trying to keep the game going.
So, a day before fatherhood hits home for real, this is where I am. Balancing the moment with the future. Drinking lots of water and getting my heart rate up a little and walking with the dogs and eating some things that are good for me. Preparing myself for a long future, and keeping my focus in the present moment. And smiling big, because I'm still in the game.
