A day of Reckoning

In the warm light of day, H told me again that she wanted to see him. I said OK. I had spent most of the night thinking about that meeting and how it should take place. I took her aside and tried to tell her what to expect. I talked about the hospital, the exercises, his chair, his bed, his room, everything I could think of to make her more comfortable. She has known that he is in a "deep sleep" and I did not want her to be surprised by seeing him look around, or make noise, and I tried to prepare her as best as I could. I explained that while most of Daddy was still sleeping, some parts were trying to wake up. His eyes are waking up and can look around, his feet are very ticklish, but his brain is still sleeping and he cannot talk or walk. She looked at me and asked "Like Prince Wesley?" Prince Wesley? Prince Wesley? Who is Prince Wesley, I ask her? She says "from the play" I think back to the play we had seen not long before this happened. The Princess Bride. Of course she would make sense of it in her own mind. The Princess Bride, I am amazed at how their little minds work. Yes just like Prince Wesley, I tell her. She seems to accept this. I speak to D and ask her to help me make this go as easily as possible. We decide I will go to the hospital and get him ready for his big visit, and that she will wait an hour or so and then bring H over to meet me there. It all goes just as planned. I take her little hand and show her how to sign in and get a sticker, and we talk about everything we pass in the halls. I show her the dining room and the gym, and point out the little park outside. I tell her that he will be in a chair, and that we can take him outside. As we get closer I can see the excitement and nervousness on her face. When we get to the doorway, she peers in, then trots over to him. She wants to know about everything, the trach (it was still in at the time) , his chair, his room, where all her pictures are (covering one whole wall) but mostly why he has a beard. Yes that is her most concerning question. After I tell her that I have to shave him because his hands are still sleeping, she seems to accept it.I ask her if she has any questions about the trach, "his necklace?" she asks. His necklace, no questions about the necklace, just still puzzled by the beard. She is a little nervous, but happy to be there. I show her that he is watching her, I tell her she can hold his hand. She talks to him in her sweet girlish chatter. She is still a little nervous. She admires the wall of her prolific artwork, and comments on her pictures posted on the opposite wall. I tell her that we can take him outside to the park area, and she offers to help me push his chair. Side by side we push him down the hall and out to the park, her chattering all the way. When we get to the entrance of the park, I ask her where she thinks he would like to sit, and she chooses the arbor , so we push him under the canopy of vines and she tells him about the leaves and the flowers and the squirrel she sees running about. She runs off with D (who has stayed quietly in the background in case I need help with one or the other of them, thank you D!) to look at the berries growing around the edge of the park. I talk to him quietly as we watch our daughter, our oldest child running in the grass, as we have watched her so many times before. She is amazing. The light of our lives. She has his spark, his zest, as it is so easy to see as we watch her dancing in the grass. I think of all the times that I have seen him, head bent over a leaf, or prized rock, as excited as she is for the found treasure. I think about these things and my heart aches for him, for us. The pleasure he gets from the little things, how he embraces them, and shows the proper reverence for a five year old's most prized possesions. My heart breaks for him, for her. As I am lost in these thoughts, she runs back to us, bounding up to hug his arm, and says "mommy I want to sit on his lap." I say OK, and help her sit on his leg. She lays her head on his chest and throws her arms across his body, proclaiming "mommy I am hugging him!" I tell her how happy it makes him and how much he loves her. We visit a little longer before taking him back to his room for a rest. Before we leave she kisses him on the cheek and squeezes his arm again. When we get to the car, I ask her how she felt and if she had any questions. She mentions the beard, again. Then she simply says "mommy I love my daddy" I said, "I know baby, so do I." Really what more is there to say.