My brother and I were
sinking deeper and deeper into despair. As
the caregivers for my father during the weeks preceding his imminent demise,
we, having a reputation within the family as carefree, silly and bordering on
nonsensical when paired together, were faced with the harsh reality of
reality. Day after day we watched
as the cancer did what it does best, taking a life and breaking the hearts of
those who held that life dear. We offered him anything, everything we could
imagine, be it useful or inane. We would have done anything for him during
this painful time…yet we were reduced to fulfilling his supply of half
glasses of water, pillows, the remote control and the telephone upon request.
He couldn’t eat food…in any form, solid or puréed. He
couldn’t drink anything of substance, only able to sip from water-filled
glass cups, purposely chosen due to their light weight and side handle.
Our hearts ached to help him…in some way…large or small.
I remember at one point, looking at my father and saying in anguish,
“I wish there was something I could DO to help.”
He replied, “You’re doing it, sweetheart, you’re doing it.”
I assumed at that time he’d meant that my presence there (as
functionally useless as it may have been) was making a difference to him and
that was reassuring to me. But
then, it happened. A request!
Although small and somewhat insignificant in hindsight, it was still a
request! There was silence in the
room except for the background noise of the Romulans speaking with Captain
Picard before they left for
Romulus
in yet another Star Trek episode which pop had been pretending
to watch intently in order to curtail our repeated suggestions of what we
thought he may need or want. Then,
out of the silence, our father looked up and in his weakened voice said,
“What about popsicles? I might could eat a popsicle.”
My brother and I looked at each other. Our
eyes widened with excitement! Popsicles!
Pop wants popsicles! Looking
back, we were unusually overjoyed at the concept and in our haste to get out
the door, I think we bumped into each other three times.
(In my mind today, the recollection of the event brings to mind an
episode of The Keystone Cops.)
Regardless, I grabbed the keys, forgot my purse and put on my
brother’s shoes. We were going to the store to buy popsicles!
Something…albeit so trivial in the grand scheme of the
situation…there was something we could do to ease his pain, maybe subtract
from his discomfort, if only for just a little while. No,
this wasn’t going to cure his cancer. No,
this wasn’t going to take away his pain.
But, as helpless as we were beginning to feel, it was indeed something
we could do.
With that, we raced to the car, solemn and completely focused on our mission.
No need for spoken word during the drive, except for my brother’s
strong warning, “watch that kid on the bike” as I may have been
accelerating too quickly in my haste to accomplish my new goal in life.
We arrived at the grocery store. Grabbing
a cart, for our subconscious intent was to purchase every popsicle brand and
flavor known to man, we proceeded to search for the popsicle section. Racing
down the aisles as if these magic popsicles were somehow going to save the day
and placing our own imaginary urgency upon this task, our eyes perused the
shelves with the concentration of a lioness choosing what she deems to be the
weakest prey from a pack of wildebeests. Ice
cream….frozen pies….fudge pops….WHERE DOES THIS DARN STORE KEEP THEIR
POPSICLES? We frantically searched
the rows, as if we were participants in a scavenger hunt where the main prize
was a new Cadillac. We looked up
at the sign: “Frozen Desserts”
and I remember feeling as though I’d seen an American Flag gracefully
blowing in the breeze after trying to flee from a third-world country.
We immediately positioned our imaginary borders and examined the
sections under our command, he on one end of the frozen dessert aisle, and I
on the other. Then, I heard his
voice proclaim, I FOUND THEM! I
rushed over to the section of the aisle that he’d been previously assigned.
There they were. A bright
light seemed to shine around them and I still swear to this day that I’d
heard angelic music playing in the background as I glanced at the treasure
he’d discovered! Popsicles!
Colors….flavors….fruit….sugar….sugar free…popsicles with
riddle sticks, popsicles with stripes, it was a popsicle wonderland!
The Disney World of frozen confection!
We began selecting boxes and proclaiming statements like, “I think
he’ll like these!” “Oh, look
at this!” and the ever popular, “I
didn’t know they made these!”
Oh, and we didn’t stop at
popsicles, oh no! As the obsession
grew, we moved on to bigger things…Italian ice cups….push up bars,
Creamsicles! As we filled the cart
with every conceivable combination of frozen ice and tropical fruit flavors,
it was then I think we finally glanced at each other and realized we may have stepped over the line.
We paused, glanced down at the cart and began a slow and almost
inaudible giggle. The giggle soon
mushroomed into a belly laugh so deep we had to bend forward and hold our
stomachs. A release.
In the midst of the most tragic, most morbid days of our lives, we
laughed. We laughed until we
cried. We cried until we laughed
again.
As I look back and recall the Popsicle Caper of 2004, I realize, though pop
did enjoy every popsicle we brought him that day, those popsicles did so much
more for my brother and I than they did for him.
