A weird feeling

I got off the phone with my mom a bit ago, and it left me with a surreal feeling.

We, of course, were talking about my stepfather and his health. Monday is the big day in Kansas City; Bill's doctor is going to lay out everything and offer his recommendation for treatment.

In my life, I can't remember my mom ever asking me for anything. Of course, there was the occasional "grab some milk on your way home" and "can you pick me up a pack of cigarettes?" I'm talking about the real things. The important things. She's never asked.

Tonight, in her own way, she did. She asked me to go with her to Kansas City for the appointment.

She's had to stay in Hannibal and keep working while Bill has been seeing doctors across the state. It's been rough on her. I think she feels guilty that she hasn't been there for him, but she's also needed to keep working to pay the bills.

Of course I told her I would make every effort to be there with them both.

When I was in the hospital last month, mom didn't bat an eye. She just came down. I know she was exhausted, but still she came. The first night, when I was so drugged up, she spent the night with my cousin. Friday night, after my treatment, when the pain medicine went away and I was scared to death and lonely, she stayed in my room with me.

Of course, that's what parents do. It's what I would do for Elijah, Heidi or Hailey. But as we get older, I think we sometimes need to return the favor.

I'm terrified to go to Kansas City. To see Bill. I haven't seen him or really talked to him since the diagnosis became more clear. I haven't been able to bring myself to do it.

On Monday, I will be be with them both, finding out what the future holds for our family.

It's going to be a defining moment for me, I think, finding out whether or not I am strong enough to be able to go through with it. To find out whether or not I can be a rock for my mother while she watches her husband go through what is likely to be a life-ending illness.

I was thinking very hard the other night about how strange it feels that the patriarch of our family probably won't be around much longer and that very soon I will fill that role for my own kids. Not that I am not their father now, just that I will be the "top of the line." It's a very uneasy feeling for someone who continually has demonstrated his ability to make wrong, irresponsible decisions.

I interviewed for a job several years ago, and the managing editor at that paper told me the story of him asking his father for advice when he was unsure whether or not to propose to the woman he eventually married.

His father, he said, told him, "Son, a time comes when you have to be a man or an asshole."

For my mother's sake - and for mine - I hope she can see her son be a man.