“What do you mean he can’t breathe?” I asked my sister. “Dad had to go to the hospital but is okay now. But he’s too tired to have the whole family come visit. It’s just too much,” she said as she choked back tears.

Understandable. Conor is 4 years old and exhausts both my wife and me. Imagine what he could do to an 84-year old man with compromised lungs after smoking his whole life.

I bit the bullet. Bought the ticket. And flew from Boston to Austin. My sister and I packed up her car and headed for San Benito.

We gossiped. Griped. Laughed. And wondered. What would life be like if we lived closer. Before you know it, 7 hours had passed. We had arrived.

“Dad, you look great!” I said, since he looked completely normal. “Well, I can breathe again,” Dad said with his usual dry humor.

I called the family to let them know all was okay with Grandpa Texas. We used Facetime so Conor could see him. Conor says, “Hi grandpa Texas. I heard your lungs weren’t feeling well. Are you okay?”

“Sure, I’m okay,” he said as he lifted his arms up in a sign of victory. Conor says, “Good, then dad you can come back home tonight.” I sure do love my boy.

Three more days of comfort, laughs and memories to store away. Good Mexican food. And a few prayers that this wouldn’t be the last time I’d see my dad alive.

“Sister Ko, you sure you don’t want me to drive?” “Nah, I’ve got this bro,” my sister said as we left the immigration checkpoint in our rear view mirror. Seven hours blew by and we were back in Austin.

Next day, back in Boston. How does it all go so fast? “Hey Conor. Hey Val, I’m back.” We hugged and we were one again. And now, it’s our turn to breathe easier.

Tags: dad, travel, texas, sister, san benito, Health, lungs, smoking, driving, mexican food