Dreams-Mine and My Dad’s
Well, my exercise continues to be rehab. My physical therapist gave me the OK to start walking for exercise, but the only walking I seem to be getting done is at the hospital in Omaha as I go to see my dad.
I am doing some new exercises with my rehab, and my shoulder has been very sore this weekend. Like last week, I don’t know if it is because of the new exercises, because I am sleeping in bed rather than on my recliner, because I am now driving instead of riding to Omaha, or because I have given up my sling. My guess is all of the above.
I do hope to get more walking in this coming week. Thanks for stopping by, and below is a post I made on Ron Speaks Out about the latest condition of my Dad.
Where Are You Dad?
The neurosurgeon says no brain damage occurred during your surgery. That some people take longer to “wake up” from the surgery than others and that you are 85 years old and went through a horrific experience. Every ounce of my heart, every fiber of my soul wants to believe him. But it has been three weeks since you were with us Dad, and I am wondering where you are.
Sure you seem to be awake and alert for a few moments each day, maybe to check and see if your loved ones are still with you. We are and always will be. But where are you the rest of the time? I won’t believe you have given up. You have been a fighter all your life, you love to do battle, and this is by far the toughest foe you ever faced. Still, how much is one human being supposed to endure? So where are you Dad?
Maybe God has created a special island for people like you to go and heal. Sunny and warm everyday. Skies that are blue, bluer, bluest, and they go on and on forever. Your only task is to get better. Maybe lie in a hammock and drink a beer or two. Well, you used to drink beer. Test out your new teeth with a nice steak dinner. Read a Louis Lamour book. Rest and get better. That sounds close to heaven, so if that is where you are, don’t stray too far. We need you back with us.
Or maybe God is just letting you dream right now to take away the aches and pain. To remember the good times in your life as you go through a very bad time. I can see young Hank Meyer walking to school for the very first time along a country road near Creston, NE. Hank is only four, won’t be five until October, but he is ready for school. Or Meta, Hank’s mom, is ready for him to be ready for school. Hank is marching in step with his older brothers Ralph and Phil, and since there is no kindergarten in the school, Hank will be in first grade. The stock market crash and Great Depression have almost arrived, but this is a good day for Hank. I know there were other good times with your five brothers and sister, so let them wash over you.
Maybe you have dreamt of that cocky 16 year old graduating from high school in the spring of 1941. Every time I look at your graduation photo I tease Matt because he looked almost exactly like you when he graduated from school. “See what you have to look forward to,” I tease. He could do a lot worse. But that was definitely a smart ass smirk in the picture.
You never said much about your experience in World War II, other than you were on Guam. Supposedly the island was secure when you went ashore as a Navy radioman, but you mentioned there were still snipers on the island too. A dream of your youth, but it might not be one you want to dream of now.
No doubt you have dreamt of your courtship with mom. 60 years later and you’re still going strong. What a couple. Mom is there at the hospital everyday, and she is getting tired. Tell her you love her one of those times when you wake up to see who is there. That would help her a lot.
I am sure you had to dream of four young sons. What an arsenal. I have other words to describe it, but let’s just go with arsenal. How many years did you coach baseball? How many young lives did you touch? How many boys from the poor side of town got to feel what it was like to be champion because of the time you invested in them? I know I got my picture in the Fremont Tribune for being on one championship team. I suspect Jeff and Jerry also were on first place finishers. Every summer was ball games, ball games, ball games, we didn’t know anything else, and didn’t care. I see lots of good dreams here, even a few with mom yelling “Hank,” to try to calm you.
Have you dreamt of our vacations to Colorado? We could never go until baseball season ended then it was pack the car and head west. We would always leave late at night because our cars did not have air conditioning. Did we ever not go to Rocky Mountain National Park? Did we ever not drive up Trail Ridge Road? I would love to do that one more time. Yeah, hit you with a snow ball in late July.
With 9 grandchildren you have a lot of next generation dreams. Every one of them can tell stories of special times with Grandpa. Actually every one of them has stories about stories you told or read to them, stories that never went quite like anyone else’s stories. And every one of them thinks they have the best Grandpa around.
I guess these dreams have been about when you are younger. Well, would you rather dream of times when you were young and called “Big Hank,” or think about the arthritis brought by 30 years of ten hour days standing on concrete floors in a cold, damp packing plant in Fremont. I thought so.
So maybe God is letting you dream right now of better times. Letting you heal-your surgery wounds look better each day, and all your vital signs are great, heck, better than mine. I hope your dreams are even better than what I wrote. That inside you are smiling and having a great time. We’ll be there when you wake up. We love you Dad.
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