You can get on!
My father cracked me up yesterday when I visited him. I decided I would ride my scooter because it was such a nice day, and just like a kid at show and tell I wanted my father to see my scooter. I don't know what it is about scooters, but senior people love them for some reason, every room I walked by I heard, you go girl, does it go fast, I like your helmet, and all the older ladies said, please be careful. I actually think scooters remind them of their youthful days of being free with no restrictions on the wind blowing in their hair. The sparkle in their eyes spoke of when they would ride bikes, and roller skate. As soon as the nurse said to my father turn around, your daughter is here, my dad burst out into this belly aching laughter, and he said, "look at your girl". He was so gleeful! My father drove motorcycles and I remember sitting on the back, holding onto him, and it was something so protective and loving in those moments. We went outside and my father, said, well get on it so I can see how fast it goes, he smiled as he watched me ride back and forth, with this be careful look in his eyes. The last two weeks, my fathers' voice has weakened but, in that moment, he was a 30-year-old, motorcycle riding man, with no cancer. My father dissected every part of the scooter, and said over and over, don't drive on the expressway :), that's his mind not understanding what a scooter does and where you can ride a scooter. My dad was a body work mechanic, and he is fascinated with anything on wheels. Of course, my father stood up and wanted about to climb on, and there were two CNA's who looked on in absolute horror, I whispered to them, he's ok, and one of the CNA's whispered, are you going to let him get on and ride, yup, if he wants to. Oh, the horror, of having terminal cancer and wanting to live, even if only for a moment. Now, I wasn't going to allow my dad to ride on his own, I was right there holding onto him, but he decided on his own, he didn't want to try it out after all, he just wanted to bask in the days when he fixed anything that was moving. Remember it's his journey! Though everyone cares for my father, inwardly I wanted to them to say, get on! Because our moments are dwindling, I am forever trying to create memories of him being a thrill seeker. Maybe one day before his eyes close, we will ride a motorcycle, but if we don't I want to be open on his journey. The dying seeks to create their own world and the living's job is to sit back and enjoy the ride.