Mom and Dad - Missed Call

Mornings are a bit nuts in our household.  I'll be honest.
This morning when our phone rang at 7:30 as John was pulling out of the driveway, and it was my mom, what little sliver of childhood that I had left ended.

"Hello, Laura.  This is your mother."  It's how pretty much every conversation that I've had with my mom via phone has started since I left for college.  Formal, tight, controlled.  "Everything is okay..."  Now that was new.

My dad had a heart attack last night.  There, I said it.  Not as dramatic as what you see on television, or what we knew as a "heart attack" back when I was in grade school or high school, but a heart attack nonetheless.  Listening to my mom trying to give filtered details and assure me that everything was okay, I felt myself slipping from the little girl that I transition to whenever I talk with her, to a woman who needed to take in information, be in control, and deal with whatever was coming next. 

She talked about how Dad was smart enough to realize what was happening and call 911.  How quickly the EMT's arrived and whisked him away.  How she wished that he had been taken to Huron Valley hospital instead of Henry Ford because she had to drive through not one, but two round-abouts, and she hated the round-abouts.  In fact, she hated them so much that when she finally left the hospital at 3:00 AM, so took the long way home so that she wouldn't have to drive through them.  Lots of detail.  Minimal information.

Katrina looked at me with big eyes throughout my conversation.  Intuitive enough to know that something was wrong, and mature enough to want to help me more than need me in that moment.  "It's okay, mommy.  Grandpa will be okay!" 

I managed to get enough details from my mom to call the hospital myself and get an update.  Minor heart attack.  Everything is under control, but he'll need to be on medication and make some diet and exercise changes moving forward.  This is his official wake-up call. 

His, and mine. 

Parents are mortal - I've just never had to see mine as such until this moment.  I asked my mother as an adult friend more than a daughter if she was okay, and if she needed anything.  She didn't know how to respond.  (And I didn't expect her to.)  I called the hospital to talk with my dad and hear for myself what he was telling me, and what he wasn't telling me - but as an adult, not a child.  I am confident that this was indeed a wake-up and that this time, it will  be okay.  I'm thankful for the wake-up.  Thankful because it puts things back into perspective for me, and pushes me to encourage more engagement between my family and my parents, on shared terms, rather than mom's terms.   Thankful because it reminds me to enjoy what I have, and not put off until tomorrow things that I should say and do today.  Thankful mostly because he's my dad, and I've always been a daddy's girl.  I adore him in every way, and rather than me losing him, God reminded me that I have him, and I should enjoy him.

The shift from child to adult was long overdue, as was the appreciation of my dad, and mom.  I hope that it is years before I have another, "Mom and Dad - Missed Call" show up on my cell phone early in the morning.