As most of you know, my dad is in the hospital. His prognosis is a roller coaster ride, and the fact that our communication with him is limited to one sibling conversing with his doctors and then sharing it with the other five of us, is difficult. We can't visit him, as the protocols due to COVID-19 prevent that. We're able to have zoom calls, which are both sad and amazing at the same time, and this is just another juxtaposition.
However, I'm learning some things in this chaos. Rather, I'm remembering some things that I already knew. My dad and I are too similar to always get along, but we both have one philosophy that keeps playing out over and over lately: take care of your business.
When I wanted to rush to North Carolina and camp out near his hospital, even though I couldn't see him, I knew immediately that he'd hate that. He'd expect that I would instead be taking care of my business. That doesn't mean just my job--though he'd never want me to do anything less than my 100% best, even if it was nearly impossible. He has been the model of this my whole life. He traveled three days a week for my entire childhood, and we always understood that you do what you have to do to take care of your business. I always understood that meant you had to do the most to make it happen. He made it clear that good fortune smiled upon those who showed up when they didn't want to, and good luck was really just a keen eye for open doors.
A few people have remarked to me that I should "take some time" (and I am, and will) to recharge, but that isn't really how it works for my dad and me. A few weeks ago, when his fever was high, he was insisting on leaving the hospital because he had things to do. When he was kindly told, "Mr Crawford, you can't leave," his response was "I can do what I want. I'm the boss." There have never been words that more reassured me that he may be sick, but he was still him.
So, as I muddle through my days of inertia and vertigo, you'll see me taking care of my business. It's just what we do.
