I’m on a little bit of a high tonight. Got a call from one of my former teammates, Aaron Wylde, this afternoon. He called to check in on me. I’ve received dozens of calls, texts, and emails from many of my Vengeance teammates, but Wylde has reached out the most. He went through something similar off the ice, so more than anyone else, he understands the myriad emotions I’m feeling. I’m really grateful for his concern, and he’s been a great source of valuable advice on how to process everything.
The one thing he can’t help me with are the feelings I have regarding Calliope. Wylde’s never had a serious relationship...never been in love. He has no interest in settling down, and thus can’t comprehend how I’ve gone years carrying a torch for one woman. Not that any of my former teammates really know that. I never told any of them about Calliope and how I left her behind. I never divulged that she was my one true love, and the different women they saw me date over the years were nothing compared to her.
As I skate around the ice, letting my legs acclimate, my eyes scan the arena—the section between the upper and lower decks where I know my parents will be—and I try to discern if Calliope is with them. I left a ticket for her, leaving it up to my mom to pass on the invitation to tonight’s game, but I have no clue if she accepted. We haven’t exactly been on speaking terms since I stepped on her toes when her douche of an ex-boyfriend showed up. That was six days ago, and for almost four of those days, I was in Toronto playing the two road games. I have no clue what she’s feeling, or if we’re even back on speaking terms.
My mom has freely shared information about her—though not because I asked. Only because hospice came out to my parents’ house while I was in Toronto and got things set up for Dad, and apparently, Calliope was there to help them navigate the overwhelming amount of information they received.
Mom said they met with their hospice nurse for almost three hours to go over everything. They learned things that no family member should ever have to know, including the physical changes that will happen to Dad as he starts to die. Mom promised she’d go over everything with me when I returned to Raleigh, and the thought of it made me want to vomit.
I’ve been back one day, and she hasn’t brought it up. Neither have I. I want to get through tonight’s game, hopefully seal up this round with a win. Then I can put some energy into it since we’ll have a few days off until the next round starts.
I look back up at the section where I think my dad will be. It’s a seating area available to people in wheelchairs, and part of the hospice package included a shiny new wheelchair. I’m not sure whether or not he’s going to use it, but when I left for the arena today, he was adamantly opposed to it.
Granted...he seemed to be having a really good day. Woke up with energy and actually ate a decent breakfast. According to my mom, who got the information from the hospice nurse, he will have good days and bad days, and it will be unpredictable. She said it can cause a lot of anxiety for us because the good days will inevitably lead to false hope. My mom told me today that we need to be grateful for every good moment he has, knowing that there are far more bad ones to come in the future. It was plain talk, but I appreciated it.
When I left for the arena, Mom was pushing for him to use the wheelchair, her argument being that he could be worn out by the time the game was over. My dad told her he was feeling pretty damn good and didn’t want to have the assistance unless he had to.
My personal opinion was that Dad should make the decision, but I didn’t voice it. But I did tell my mom that she should just let him go without it. I promised her that if he ran into trouble after the game and didn’t have the strength to walk out, I would get help. That seemed to put her at ease enough and because I can’t seem to locate them in the wheelchair area where they would be if he brought it, I assume they’re in the ticketed seats. I don’t know what those seats are just yet since I don’t have access to annual passes because I’m so new to the team, and their tickets were handled through will-call.
It’s enough to know that they’re here to watch me. I’ll take any games my dad can make it to and cherish it more than I ever did in the past.