Resigned

My parents are here. I couldn't wait for them to get here on Sunday. My poor momma started being pestered by me about 7:30 AM on Saturday. I started calling to see if they had left yet.

They were still in bed.

Sorry, Momma.

I haven't seen them since January. They arrived the day Christopher was born. I don't remember much of that visit. The whole first month of motherhood is sort of a blur to me now.

It is easy to forget from visit to visit how hard it is to see my daddy for the first day or two. It is easy for me to forget what Parkinson's has done to him.

It is hard not to be sad, and it is hard not to be angry.

Momma said today that I shouldn't feel guilty for not being there to help them or to spend some time with Daddy while it still counts. She reminded me that they chose to go to Tennessee. That's true. I wanted them to come here.

Still though, I feel like I don't have a right to complain. Like I should just be happy for the time I do get to have with them.

I am happy for the time I have with them. I'm so happy my momma is here - I want to let all the air out of her tires and hide her wallet so that she can't ever ever leave.

But Daddy makes me nervous. And I don't feel like a good daughter. I feel impatient and I feel angry that he isn't like he used to be. I want my son to know him how he used to be.

I had to tell Daddy today that I didn't want for him to carry Bird up or down the stairs. That it made me uncomfortable, and as his mother, I needed to make sure that he was safe. Daddy carrying him up and down the stairs isn't safe.

He didn't get mad. He didn't get his feelings hurt.

In a way, I think wanted him to. I didn't want him to be so resigned to Parkinson's that he understood my concerns and gave in so easily. It wasn't like him.

Then again, it was a relief not to have to fight him on it like we did over his car keys a few years ago.

He is resigned to this new way of life I suppose. I should be too.

But some days, I want him to fight harder. I want him to take on Parkinson's like he used to take on ambulance chasing lawyers. And I lecture him on his diet and urge him to exercise and pester him to get more tests and try new drugs.

He's tired I think.

I'm annoying I know.

And Parkinson's isn't a fair opponent. It plays dirty. It messes with his body and his mind. I'm just an outsider, not even with him on a daily basis, and yet I find it appropriate to be trying to force him into giving up refined sugar and caffeine. What the hell do I really know anyway?

He's just tired it seems.

I guess I would be too if I were him.

It's not fair to ask him to fight so hard in a battle where the winner is already determined with the diagnosis. But I wish he would. Fight harder that is.