saturday in my part of the world

Today began with a phone call at 3:05 am. It wasn't one of those dreaded calls where your life changes forever, it was the welcomed call. My dad just arrived home after a four hour drive from the city where he had emergency surgery. He had suffered a heart attack while in the hospital for observation and was flown to Salt Lake City. I can't even begin to tell you what a nightmare this week was.
30 years ago, my mother came home alone from a bowling tournament my dad was competing in. She told me later that he had just bowled and when he turned around, he had the funniest (not as in "ha ha funny") look on his face and she knew something was wrong. He sat down beside her and she began to take his pulse. She said she knew something wasn't right so she called an ambulance. He was angry with her for doing so, and refused to get on the gurney. He made it to the door of the bowling alley when he collapsed. My dad died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital from a massive heart attack. He was 47. I was an adolescent.
So here we are 30-some years later and my step-father (who has been my father on this planet longer than my bio dad was able to be) returned home with my mom. It's amazing how quick a mind that can't keep track of soccer schedules (or parent conferences) can remember in vivid detail how the room looked when awakened to be told Dad wasn't coming home. I am sure in thirty years I will remember the relief I felt when my 'other' Dad called to say, "Are you sure you want to be called in the middle of the night just to hear I'm home?"