Aside from the thought of my father still in hospital and might be suffering, the thing that bothers me the most is not being able to call him.
It’s not that we have lost contact. I still talk to him (my sister’s cell on speaker), and while I appreciate being able to hear his voice, it’s not the same as dialing the phone number that connects me directly to him. After moving from our family home to the retirement residence, the phone number went with him.
I have known this number all my life; for five decades, whenever I’ve dialed and someone answered, it was always by a person who loved me.
Whenever I think of his not being able to return home and to the number that connects me to him, I find an inner strength I know that can only spring from one place.