Paying A Debt

So, here I am... sitting in "my" chair in the sunporch at the 100 year old cottage on the lake. David, Bonus Dad's son, is working on the boat. Next to me is Bonus Dad's empty chair--which is totally wrong. Next to me should be Bonus Dad, reading his latest book and the two of us hanging out in comfortable silence. 

Bonus Dad has been in the hospital eleven days as of today. Thanks to modern medicine, his heart is getting stronger. However, another problem cropped up and that has caused him to hang out there longer instead of being transferred to a nursing facility. The hospital and (hopefully) soon-to-be nursing facility are 80+ miles from the cottage. My choices are free housing or driving a crap-ton. I'm choosing driving. 

I'm happy to be here. There is NO other place I want to be. Even with my book launch this week. Even though I'm recovering from my last trip here a couple weeks earlier. Even though I'm missing the very first Golden Quill Writer meeting. Even though... 

I'm here because David called me last week. He lives in Chicago and needs to go home to his family. He asked me to take over for him until his younger brother could arrive. At the time, Icky (a loving nickname, I assure you) wasn't coming until September 16. My "job" is to visit Bonus Dad daily, get updates and bring lunch. Normally not a fussy eater, the food at the hospital is so terrible, even Bonus Dad is grossed out. 

Because I've made myself unconcerned with the medical stuff and only want hang with Bonus Dad, I've enjoyed every moment of our visits. He opens up and just chats. Many of his stories I've heard before. Some I haven't. And I'm finding out I know a few private stories his sons do not. 

All that said, Icky opted to fly to Michigan sooner than later, so I am not as relevant as I was. However, until Bonus Dad is moved to the nursing facility (fingers crossed for no more medical setbacks), I'm going to keep doing what I'm doing. Also, Icky is staying close to town so when David leaves tomorrow I will have the cottage to myself. I'm packing up Bonus Dad's stuff and getting it ready for his eventual flight back to Phoenix. His car is being shipped back. I'm probably hanging out until the folks come and get the car. 

Thirty-seven years ago Bonus Mom and Dad took in a very broken me. Even though I was a stranger to them, they loved on me and helped me heal when they didn't have to. They voluntarily stayed in my life. They've been part of my children's lives. Bonus Mom's sudden death tore me apart. The only one who truly seemed to understand that was Bonus Dad, who recognized my emotional fissures forming from years earlier starting to crack and stood by me and loved on me all over again. It is my honor to be here, paying back this debt.