February 25, 2011
|My dad enjoying a game of table tennis|
I've been overwhelmed lately with my own sense of mortality while thinking about my parents.
My dad has been diagnosed with alzheimer's and my mom tells me almost every day how much he is deteriorating. Naturally this leads me to think about his death and how much life would change if he were no longer in it.
He's my father - he's an inspiration for being such a wonderful and patient man, putting up with so much over all the years and making it clear that nothing was more important than his family's happiness.
And now there's nothing we can do for him. He's slipping away little by little and we can only watch as he frustrates over his memory and his wonderful mind slowly fades away.
And with these thoughts, comes thoughts of myself. It feels so selfish, but I worry about the fact that I'm good at everything but exceptional at nothing - I'm really only average. I claim to be creative and yet I've watched January and February fly by without being creative or reaching any of my goals. Even something my husband said this morning jolted me: my online content producer job sees me do the Fashion Don'ts gallery on a Friday, and he called it the "Ugly Betty" job.
It's so true - I see it now, even though he probably meant it in regards to the fashion connection - I am in the "Ugly Betty" job because I am doing something I hope will put me onto the road of creativity, and like Betty I've become involved and distracted from my true goal.
I am trying hard not to drive myself to guilt because I haven't written that book that I told my dad I would, because I'm not a professional photographer, because I haven't been painting and drawing as much even though I know he loves me doing it, because I'm letting every day slip past without making him proud of me.
I know that all these thoughts are pointless, because they aren't true, because it's life, but I can't help but think it's because I'm not trying hard enough.