Sitting on our deck this morning, looking out on the water, I admit to stalling and putting off, the next thing on my list.

I need to pack for New Mexico, and I am out of practice.

My dad, who has heart disease, cancer and old age, (which happen to be the three leading causes of death), has taken another turn. And I am heading to New Mexico on Friday.

I’ve named my dad The Rebounder, as he has a way of bouncing back from what ails him. It was three years ago when I was down there, calling hospice, and home health nurses and helping him make his final plans.

This time, my brother Ty is arranging hospice, home health nurses, and asking me to come.

I know it is a gift to be able to have the opportunity to say good bye and yet…

When our friend Roger Lanrick was sick, Ken and I went to see him and said good bye and good life a couple of times. Roger did not go easy into that good night and neither will my dad.

Others tell me dad will die… Someday. But, I’m really not so sure. I know that up until him, everybody dies, but there is something about my dad that is just stubborn and he may break all the rules of being human.

I am not taking this lightly. I am emotional as hell. I’m fearful, worried, upset, and curious.

Ken and I chose to live where we live. And right now it feels very far away. It will take me two days once I start travelling, to get back up to Dodge, loads of time to think and remember.

And, as much as I complain about my dad; saying good bye will be hard.

I remember once telling Tony Clark, when his wife gave birth to a daughter; to please know, that no matter what dads do, daughters will love them. Even when it’s hard. I said that because it is my experience, I don’t always like my dad, but I do love him, and I’ve wanted him to love me.

Every family has its stuff. Mine is no exception. I learned early to put my seat belt on. It sure has been a roller coaster of relationships.

When my step-mother died, dad and I tried again to be close. But then he got sick. If he hadn’t been so healthy, he would have died then. But, he didn’t, he rebounded and has celebrated three more birthdays since that first time I went down to take care.

I don’t know if he will bounce back this time. He’s 90, and the cancer may be winning. The only treatment he is taking now is for pain management.

My imagination is struggling to stay with reality. The what will happen and what is happening are in battle.

My practice and experience tells me to keep centred and boundaries stay clear. Yet with family, with my family, and with my dream and hope, of what family could be… boundaries are blurred lines and the battle royal is on.