Yesterday was January 11th. I didn't even realize that until I looked at my phone just now. I know it's Sunday.
It's been a month and a day since I've written anything. I've received messages from people wondering if we are okay. We are.
Last time I wrote, I wrote about Michael's pressure sore. It is healing. We found some amazing patches that cost a ridiculous amount of money, but they work.
You can't always buy healing.
But these we can buy, so we do, and they are working, so I couldn't care less how much they cost.
I wish more than anything I could order a patch to heal my dad right now. It's a long story, but he has been in ICU since Christmas night and the last two and a half weeks have been such a roller coaster.
I don't know what to write.
I feel like I'm in a fog. Like I'm watching a movie about my life, my dad, my family.
This is so strange. So sudden. Too soon.
There's a light in my kitchen my dad took down the Saturday before Christmas. There's a note on my counter in his handwriting that says the weird type of fluorescent bulb that needs to be ordered. He is coming back to fix it.
I can't wait for the light to work again, and for the fog to clear.