If you’ve read my last post, you perhaps know that my father is fighting Covid and is still on high levels of oxygen support in an ICU.
Over the last few days, the emotional whirlwinds that we have had to deal with has manifested itself in many ways. My mother is struggling to eat. I used to wake up in the middle of the night amid chills. Our heart rates are perpetually fast. I don’t know enough medical science to understand how deep this is hurting us.
Yet, in the last couple of days, when my father has particularly worsened, I am trying to work out a method to cope.
My father and I have always shared a complex relationship. I have always known that I do not know how best to communicate with him. I have fought with him more than I have had a normal conversation with him.
But in this time of crisis, I have been sitting, with my hands on the walls (or sometimes sitting and holding my mother’s hands), channeling all the positive energy that I have into my father’s recovery. I believe in no God, so I cannot possibly pray to any many-faced God. I have been talking directly to my father, telling him how every second that he takes in a breath, his body is healing. All the wreckage in his lungs is dissolving and he’s regenerating new, healthy lung tissues. I have been telling my father that he has always been a fighter, and the fact that he’s in the ICU for so many days, as the world collapses around him, he’s been so strong. We are all there beside him, even though we are not physically present, we are channeling all our strength and emotional resilience towards him. This is his singular fight and only he can overcome it. But we are all in this together. I pray for the cells in his body to soothe, to calm down the hyperactivity in his tissues and focus on healing. I know that he will heal. All the world is with him and fighting together.
I know that the road from here is filled with light. Even though I am intermittently scared and brave, I know we will have the last laugh.
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