Dinner at the Folk’s…

I finally found time to spend an hour or two at my parents’ house for dinner. even though we live only about 4 blocks away, since the move there hasn’t been much time spent together in person.  My dad and I talk almost daily on the phone.  he’ll call me or I’ll call him and we’ll fill each other in on what is going on in our lives.  My dad and i have always gotten along fairly well.  When I got hurt, he was one of the few people around me that didn’t treat it like I was begging for attention or making it all up.  throughout the last seven or so years, he has always been there to lean on.

My mom is a different matter.  After I got hurt and had to start using narcotics to help treat the pain, she couldn’t understand why I couldn’t just “buck up” and keep up the good work.  She projected her feeling that I WAS just faking it, or attempting to bury my mind in a narcotic haze.  She acted (For the first six or so years anyway) like there was nothing wrong with me that a little more effort or endurance on my part wouldn’t cure.  After the MRI’s and other diagnostics started coming back with definitive damage she started coming around, but it was touch and go for a while….

Now we get along pretty well, actually.  Shawna and I have endeavored over the last couple of years to NOT ask them for any money or financial help.  It has been hard at times, but I would rather bite my tongue out than ask them for money for bills. (Food is a different matter. No way i am going to let pride get in the way of my kids getting a hot meal.)   In doing so, I think they have seen that I might just actually be a grown-up now.

Anyhow, dinner was good. (Pizza Hut lasagna and chicken noodle dish with bread sticks.) Conversation was good.

Life is good.  If painful.

Here’s a pic of my folks:

The kindest, most generous, smartest woman I have ever met….

The most honest, honorable, faithful man I know.

~ by daveprime on April 22, 2009.