Fortune Cookie
Without traveling to foreign lands, I recently discovered that the word “crisis” has a dual meaning In Mandarin it also translates to “opportunity”. We all seek to find the silver lining in our cloudy days. Fascinating to me that once again, the east made it their mantra. That even in our pitfalls, there is something to learn.
I really want to celebrate for others right now. I really want to be happy for the joyful weekend runners out there…their ponytails swinging side to side, their sunglasses shielding their eyes from the gleaming sun, their utter bliss in their straining smiles…but I not quite there. Even though I never wear sunglasses, my pony tail just doesn’t have that well-conditioned swish, and I try not show too much strain, I still wish it was me. So, it may be understandable that as deeply as I connect with these fellow runners, my green envy is riding side saddle with me.
Several months ago, my father suffered an aortic dissection. Without going into medical details, he nearly lost his life. In the course of emergency operations, he suffered three strokes. So, though his life was spared, he has learned to live a very different life.
If you met my father before March ninth, this fate may seem even more incomprehensible. Though seventy years old, he had the energy and zest of a twenty-something boy. His ideas flowed rapidly…constantly trying to mastermind an adventure or event. “Hey, if I fly to San Diego…maybe you can meet me there and we’ll take off to Mexico for a few days”. Or…“Why don’t you drive up, give me the girls, you go skiing, and I’ll meet you in Tahoe for dinner?” Most of the times, I would beckon him to cool his heels, take it easy, slow done and let’s just go have a sandwich instead of crossing the border. But he, too, was a runner, a hiker, a lifetime sailor who spent every Friday on his beloved boat “Rainbow’s End”. So, slowing down just let the earth settle. And my dad was none of that.
Things are different now. My dad has made strides I can only dream of. From tubes and ventilators and passages of critical stages, to a man who has embraced his new life. He believes in his deepest core he has been given a second chance. And though he has described his world as “being a prisoner in his body”, he awaits and enjoys the most simple pleasures in the most fullest sense.
There are days I cry, missing the father I had and the ease of which he lived and moved. But truth be told, I think I took that man for granted. Believing that there were always other days to appease his latest plan for adventure. But now, each beautiful and strong stride we celebrate. I think one of our most joyous memories will now be strolling the grocery store together just last week. His hands on the cart and me pacifying his every whim. “Ooooo, those pink lady apples look good”. Ok…dad, let’s toss them in! “Do you think the girls like caramel popcorn?” Come on, dad, it’s you who likes it. Let’s make it and hope there is enough to share. I won’t even go share what happened in the bread aisle.
It is not my place to remind my dad what could have happened. That by all indication, his life could have ended. That some say he is lucky to be alive. Because it is not up to me to determine that it was luck at all. What resonates for me, that in all this, small miracles have illuminated. My family’s connection with my father’s family has grown stronger, tighter, more compassionate, and loving. My relationship with my father has tightened. There is no time to take him or his presence for granted. He is my father and the tables turned. It is time for me to push the cart and care for him as he tried to care for me. It was, through every essence of the definition, a crisis. But in my life, it has become a gentle opportunity too.
So, I know, this is a small opportunity for me too. I can let a little earth settle, and discover things around me that I may not have seen otherwise. As for those weekend runners, I hope they soak in the sun and continue to smile through the strain. And when we break open our brittle, subtly sweetened, and often stale cookie…who knows what good fortune we may have inside.