When I was little my father use to have to tuck me in at night, lay beside me and read. If by chance he moved while I was sleeping, I would grab his arm and make him stay till I knew I was safe, fast asleep and dreaming. He would oblige, lay his head by mine and run his fingers through my hair. Sometimes I would ask him to hum a lullaby so I could hear his voice as I started to drift asleep. He would whistle our favorites like the Beatles, the Doors or even Cat Stevens. The gentle hum, even though not always in tune, would reassure me he was there, close by, and that I was not alone in the dark.
As an adult, I no longer have the need to have my father beside me helping me through the night, but its him that needs me. It's a weird transition to become the adult to your own parent. It's a change in dynamic that isn't offered but that must be taken in order to keep everything in check, together and in peace. As weird as it felt to switch roles, I welcomed it. I instinctively knew this was my role to take on almost like a mother does with their newborn child. There is not a thought, no hesitation, no second guessing, you just "do". We switch roles as if it was a natural progression in life. We don't discuss it, we don't signify it, we just move forward in the new roles we have been given.
I call to check in, make sure he has made it home and keeps up with his weekly errands. I call the doctor when he makes a visit to make sure he showed up and to get the "real" answers to the progress or lack there of to his health and memory. I ask him about his medication, has he filled his prescriptions and is he getting enough vitamins. I lecture him on reading and keeping his mind busy, exercising regularly and socializing a bit more with the neighbors. I encourage him to take on new projects, set goals for the week and to not forget to call me once he has landed and gotten home safely. I take note of times he has been late, not remembered to call, hasn't eaten the vegetables he should or the smoking habit he quit but decided to pick up again. At 32, I had no idea this responsibility would be handed to me. I always thought I would nurture and look after my own children before one of my parents.
This is what I do know though, I am strong and I have found the core of what it means to be born a woman. I was built to handle this and anything else that might come up. They say you are only dealt with what you can handle and with that saying I take grace knowing its a challenge I accept. I have put my faith in not only myself but the fact that my father needs me. Not just my love, he has that unconditionally, but the nurturing and humility that I can provide in moments of despair and need and as a woman I now know we were built for moments like these. Whether its our children, our parents, our friends or strangers who need us, as women we are differentiated in this aspect. Things happen knowingly, you have to believe that there are lessons to learn and things to grow from when they are presented.
At night, when I have too much on my mind and I can't sleep, I turn on the music he would play for us. The gentle sounds of something familiar makes me relax and puts me in a place I remember well. A place that shaped who I am and who I am still shaping to be. It takes me back to my dad lying beside me, humming as best he could to the sounds of the past, the past I envisioned for him which is the past I now recall. It's my way of sleeping peacefully and reassuring myself that I am still the child within.
