I am so glad I was warned about the unreliable nature of my emotions during this grief process. The waterworks start at the most unusual and inconvenient times and places. Today it was as we were making our final approach to San Antonio. It was a perfect flight and I sat back and watched the clouds and enjoyed the landing, and then the next thing I knew the tears were flowing. Fortunately I was able to turn my head toward the window and just wait it out, and things were pretty much dried up before we taxied to the gate. But without the warnings, I might have thought I was just losing my mind.
As near as I can figure, the trigger was San Antonio. Bill and I came through here in mid-May on our last trip and our oldest daughter lives here in a group home run by Mission Road Ministries. Part of why I made this trip was so I could sit down with my daughter tell her about her dad. She does not yet know that he has passed away, and I am not sure how I am going to explain it to her. It is not a task I look forward to.
Berinda is a mentally disabled adult of 36 who understands things at about the level of a first grader. She also has a seizure disorder which was well controlled for two decades, until about six months ago when she started having seizures again. These aren't little spells of staring unresponsiveness. These are falling down, teeth gnashing, tongue biting violent seizures. This makes breaking the news in a controlled environment pretty important.
Since we could not get the team together before Friday, tonight I just took her out for dinner and brought her back to show her the place where I am staying. I found this little B&B, Chicken Paradise, only three blocks from Berinda's group home, and a perfect place for a restful stay in San Antonio. Hopefully it is also the perfect place to find the perfect words to deliver perfectly awful news.