It's been over 12 weeks since my dad had his triple bypass.
It's strange the confluence of events that lead up to him being admitted for this surgery.
Only the week before we had been talking excitedly about the world trip he and mum were heading off on. It was a longed for, much anticipated holiday. The UK, Ireland and the USA.
And then we went to a concert and the world as we knew it crashed down round our heads.
We'd been running to a shuttle bus when dad simply couldn't run. He'd quietly scheduled a stress test for immediately after. You know. Just in case.
And the results weren't great.
So his cardiologist scheduled an angiogram.
You know. Just in case.
Even though he was sure it was just anxiety.
It wasn't.
And he didn't leave the hospital after that for a long time.
I remember sitting in the chair bedside dad's bed watching my ever stoic mother. I remember taking photos with my iphone of the angio test and texting them to my brother in Sydney. He in turn was showing them to his best friend, to see if there were any alternatives to open heart surgery.
Turns out,
there wasn't.
I remember sitting in the chair and thinking with absolute certainty: "Dad shouldn't be here." "We shouldn't be here."
It's amazing what time does.
Waiting in the waiting room.

Praying.
Not crying strangely enough, though I came close when they couldn't control his internal bleeding.
Waiting.
And watching my dad in pain. Oceans of it. And watching mum and her unfailing love and stoicism.
Unfailing love.
I remember watching dad two days after the op and wondering how he would ever get through this.
I remember dad turning 60 and quietly celebrating the fact that he was alive for it.
Eight weeks later, he had my mum and himself running on the beach nearly every morning.
Last week, he and my mum set off on their world trip.
Again.
And in four weeks time my husband and I fly to Sydney to reunite with them and my family to celebrate his birthday. In real style.
Because sometimes when we are in places we don't want to be, or "know" we shouldn't be.
There is usually a reason.
And if my dad hadn't been in that hospital, at that time?
I'd probably never have seen him again after they set off on his holiday.