Dad - Liminality -

August 2 is my father's birthday; he'll be 84.

On July 27 my father had hip replacement surgery. It has been a week of wondering - will he live, will he die, will he rally, will he diminish, and then - what would he want. He was supposed to leave the hospital for rehab on Thursday. He didn't, and complications due to, well, stuff, mean he may, or may not, leave the hospital this next week.

It has been a liminal week - where the routines get lost in the "crisis at hand." My family is great when dealing with crisis - we know the business. We know how to drop the every day and move into motion to deal with the "event." Priorities are dropped, what was important is no longer, and what filters to the top is typically family - not nails, not swimming, not webinars, not concerts, not . . . He's not dead; he's certainly not among the living; and we're "not sure" what is next. We're all in that liminal space - in fact, a hospital is a clear example of liminality - waiting, wondering, waiting. To patients - crisis; to staff - work, every day, same thing.

July 2010, Dad, my sister, Sheri (one of those who cleared her calendar and stayed).

There are 7 of us kids, 3 of us daughters live nearby, and we have juggled home, work, family, to spend time with Mom and Dad - because both of them are in crisis.

We've had frank talks, we've laughed, we've been angry, we've talked about dying, living, last wishes, goals, and we've filtered the news from the doctors and hospital staff to our other siblings, family, friends.

It's been a circus - but one we're very comfortable with being a part of. An observer, this week, said, "Looks like you've done this before." I said, "Well, does living in the hospitality industry - whether for profit or pleasure, count? Does being an entrepreneur count? Does being an event planner count?" Because see, we know how to plan, how to shuffle, how to deal with the minutia and the grandiose, in a relatively calm fashion. It's in our genes - in our upbringing - in our makeup as Walkers and as Mormons. We know how to serve one another, how to get outside of ourselves, how to let others be in the limelight while being the messenger.

August 2 is my father's birthday - August 3 - we'll cross that bridge tomorrow. One. day. at. a. time.