In the City
The ex and I arrived in Chicago around 11:00 am yesterday. His father cried as we walked in. I guess this is really where I need to be right now.
Kevin’s off-of-the-boat Italian mom has been shoving copious amounts of food in front of our faces. Actually, I like being mothered from time to time, and I love the various gastronomic delights available in the city. Pete’s for gyros and some of the best chili dogs on the planet. DeNico’s or Connie’s for pizza. Gelato Uno for extremely handsome Italian waiters and fantastic pistachio gelato. Papaspiro’s for moussaka… I could go on and on.
As it turns out, Roger (the dad) is in fairly good spirits and is hanging in there gamely. He is exceptionally weak, has been bedridden since November and now looks like a concentration camp survivor. It is really difficult to see such a robust man now in this condition.
My major contribution to his well being has been feeding him literally anything that he can dream up, running here and there to see that his wishes are fulfilled. His appetite is waning, so the leftovers are quickly filling the refrigerator. I have also been giving him light massages to help keep his circulation going. He is very delicate, all ofthe fat on his body is gone and the muscle is slowly melting away, so I have to be as gentle as with a newborn child. I have given him a manicure and picked lilacs and irises from the backyard to put near his bed.
Roger used to spend most evenings on his back deck which overlooks the yard and street. Since he took ill, he has not even been able to sit up. His hospital bed is in the living room, so he is not even able to see much outside. Working out in the garden this afternoon, mowing the grass and trimming the shrubbery, at least a dozen people stopped to ask after Roger. There is something to be said about community.
Just being here to provide conversation and company seems to be providing a boost to his morale. I am very happy that I was able to come.