Page 100 of Seriously Pucked

All I had was my mother's reports about how he had been standing at the kitchen sink, helping with dishes, and suddenly he gasped, clutched his chest, and slumped forward.

She helped him into a chair, looked at his ashen face, heard him say that his left arm hurt, and then she immediately called 911.

This time, he lost consciousness. He did not wake up before the paramedics got there. My mom rode in the ambulance with him and he was out the entire way to the hospital.

Last time I was here, I was worried and felt at a loss, with nothing to do. I didn't know what to say to my mother, I couldn't do anything medically, and I really couldn't give my sisters or Nathan any answers when they asked.

This time feels different.

Yes, my father's condition seems worse. The team has been back with him longer, with no news. His symptoms sound worse.

But I called Nathan and said, “My dad had another heart attack. I need to go to Decatur.”

All he said was, “Go to the airport. My jet will be ready.”

That was it. But this time I, for once, just said, “Okay.”

I let him take care of that part.

And I'll be honest, showing up at the airport, being escorted out to a private jet with no standing in a long security line, no waiting to board the plane, no sitting amongst a bunch of strangers as I’m worrying and praying was such a huge fucking relief.

I had texted him.

I'm on the plane. Thank you.

And his answer had been simple.

Of course.

Those two words had meant the world to me.

Even after everything that had happened over the last few days, all the tension, the blame we've all tossed back and forth, the actual anger between us, and the fact that things within our little family are not necessarily okay, he still gave me exactly what I needed and made it seem as if I hadn't even needed to ask.

And truthfully, I know I didn't.

Not only would Nathan do that for me, but he was glad to do it.

I also knew that he would tell Dani and Crew, and I knew that they would worry. Not that I want them to worry, but it felt good knowing that regardless of what happened over the last few days, they would be concerned about me. I would probably get texts, maybe phone calls. I can call Dani at any time, and she will pick up, and I can hear her sweet voice.

But when I looked up and saw the three of them standing in this waiting room, I'm not sure I've ever felt more loved and supported.

I grew up knowing that I was loved unconditionally, and that there was nothing I could do to make my parents not be proud of me or not want me.

But I guess I also grew up believing that parents had to love their kids.

Of course, as an adult, I’ve learned that's not always the case, unfortunately. But I'm very grateful that my childhood made me believe that parents always love their kids.

Having a family like the one I have with Crew, Nathan, and Dani is different. We’re choosing this. And more, we’re choosing this in spite of the fact that it is not the norm, it is not traditional, and we will get pushback. Hell, we’re giving each other pushback.

But we're still here. We’re still us.

Seeing them in this waiting room felt right.

Me, the guy who never really needs anyone, the guy who fixes things for our family, the one they lean on for everything from fajitas to groin strains to emotional healing and working through healthy, productive communication, needed them.

And they showed up.

Without me asking, without any questions.

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