I open my eyes, listening to the Backstreet Boys song that has infiltrated my dreams. This is why I have a specific ring tone for everyone in my phone, so I know who is calling without even having to look. It helps in situations like this when you are foggy from sleep and can't focus to read the display clearly.
I click accept and say, "Hi Dad," knowing a phone call from him this early can not be a good thing.
Through my father's tears I get pieces of information: my grandfather had fallen and broken his hip and dislocated his shoulder. He's in the hospital. He's in a lot of pain. His hip is shattered. They are not sure if they can operate because he probably won't survive the procedure due to the aneurysm in his abdomen. And even if they operate his arthritis in his spine and knees is so bad he will never walk again.
Things are not good.
My parents are heading to Ohio to help my grandmother and aunt make some really difficult decisions. And I'm stuck here in Vegas, waiting to hear anything more, wanting to jump on a plane myself but know that I can't until I have a clearer idea of what is going on. I'm not good at waiting, I am better when I have something to do. After finding plane tickets for my parents I didn't have anything more to do.
So now I wait. And worry.
And try not to cry through my day.
