Telling the Story.

I've just gotten back from a week long trip to upstate New York to visit my fiance's family. (Hence no blog posts!) His sister, brother-in-law, niece, and nephew were the last members of the family I hadn't met yet, although I've spoken to them on the phone. They are all lovely, and it was fun to actually meet them face to face and see the home they've lived in for fourteen years or so.

Once again, however, I found myself faced with telling them about myself, my life, and, of course, my father, since he and his situation are so intimately tied up with MY life. They knew something about Dad's illness and our history, but were understandably curious about the details. So, I found myself launching once again into the, by now, short and well-organized version of events. I'm amazed at how succinct and organized seven or eight years have become! It never really gets easier to tell over, and over.

It's still hard, though, even so long after many of the big events, to talk about. It's also hard when they inevitably ask whether Dad recognized me or not. He doesn't really, and that's about the worse thing that people can imagine. She asked about Dad's health care and how easy it was to follow his religious beliefs. She asked about his living situation, and how long I thought it would be before he really started to fail. My fiance's sister was very sympathetic, while still being curious about a situation she'd never been in-one I hope she's never in, but that might just be wishful thinking.

It's just that I always forget that people I've never met who know about our story, will always want to know the specifics and current details-and that truly never gets easier to talk about.