Strolling up to that expansive complex, he is waiting out front me. The valet workers are bustling back and forth rolling patients in their wheelchairs from the cars driven by their loved ones. "Hello," I say.
"It's been awhile," he says slowly, each word pregnant with much more meaning.
"Yeah. I just needed to step away for a bit. Needed to mull things over."
"I figured. Are you ready?" He understands, how can he not, but in his eyes lies a future I'm not wanting to see.
"Do I have a choice?"
"Yes and no. Every man has a choice. Thou mayest. Or not. Timshel. You should know the story. But in so far as you are called to do the right thing, how could you walk away?"
"I haven't even been able to get up from getting knocked down yet. I used up all my reserves on my brother and school. I don't want this to be happening."
"None of us do. But it is happening all the same. You do know what is in store." The last thought is almost a question but really more of a statement. Of course, he and I both know what is in store. He is the doctor side of me. He knows much of what is about to happen, even if I'm not ready to face it.
"I know." That last reply of mine is said out of exhausted resolution. And the journey begins anew. I must figure out how to still grieve my brother while preparing for my dad's struggle.