A TRIP HOME

This past week started with a phone call, at 4AM on Saturday (Feb 15), telling me that dad was in the ICU and that I should come home as soon as possible. Hastily, I packed a bag, including a suit, because it seemed like I was going home for dad’s death and funeral.

Once I arrived, it started getting better for him. He was in the ICU for a couple more days, then a normal hospital room, and then was transferred to a rehab facility.

In the midst of all of this, my brother and I were tasked (self-tasked, really) with getting dad’s life in order. Anything could happen, but we knew that, should he get better, he’d want to go back to a place that felt like somewhere he could live, not one that was covered in bodily fluids and looked like someone was just trying to survive there.

We scrubbed his apartment high and low. Did all his laundry. Cleaned his dishes. Threw out food that would spoil. Bought new furniture, art, and bedding. Took to looking through his myriad folders for financial forms that would let us know what bills he’d need paid while he was recovering. We handled that.

We talked to dad’s friends about making sure dad felt supported and that he had contacts for anything he might need.

It was a long week, but in the midst of it all, I found myself creatively restless. I finished a draft of a screenplay I’d been working on all month, and still had more energy.

I thought this week would make for a good story, so I started writing things down. The things we did each day. How dad was doing. Personal issues we were all working through.

Before I knew it, there was a structure forming.

This is how I manage life. I always say “Make Art About It” and this is what I’m talking about. Stories about everything going well are seldom entertaining and highly forgettable. Stories of struggle and tragedy and pain are the reasons why I read, watch movies, and consume what I do.

And it keeps my head on straight, and my morale up.