Verbal diarrhea commences:I saw my fam dambly today. Mom glows but Dad shrinks more every fucking time I see him. He is the shit. He's a guy that helped raise three wonderful (I know) children whilst working his ass off as a Chrysler exeutive and also an owner of an ill-fated fucking yarn store.
I kissed his hand today. He struggled to pull his hand out of my grasp. Have I mentioned that I was drunk? At my parents' house? To celebrate my sister turning 37 years old three days ago?
Well, I was.
The kissing of the hand had absolutely no homoerotic qualities to it. I kissed my Dad's hand because a hug was not enough and a handshake was ridiculous. I'm not quite sure how much my Dad knows that I love him. That sentence structure blew. Get over it.
I am not quite sure that my Dad knows that I respect the hell out of him and, in these bad physical (for him, at least) days, that I would lie down on a fucking sidewalk so that he could walk on my back over a hole.
Shit.
Have I feminized my Daddy? Kissing hands, the proclivity to lie down so that he can walk over my back? Up to what do those things add?
Love.
Love.
Fucking Love, man.
It is really fucking tough to see a family member illing. Flat out: it blows donkey scrotum.
And I have dealt with it like the man I am: Avoidance.
Am I a fucking coward? I see it in me. I fucking smell it and taste it. Don't get too close to MaandPa because Pa is not doing well. He is fucking exiting Stage Left. Why am I such a fucking prick?
I don't know.
I know this, though: I love that motherfucking Robert Raymond.
Why can't I put them fifty pounds back onto his frame? Why can't I fill his hair with the luster that it once had? Why can I not lose to him in an arm-wrestling contest? Why can I not look at his physique and call him a bear?
How the fuck do I turn back the goddamned clock?
How?
69 is a fan-fucking-tastic number. I would prefer 79 or 89, though.
I am pissed and more than a little heartbusted.
9 comments:
Dad knows that you love him, Adam. He doesn't expect anyone to cure him - it is what it is. It's absolutely terrible to see someone you love fade physically, but don't mistake the outside for the inside. Dad is as present as he ever was, as concerned about his kids and wanting to make sure that when he isn't here anymore that we're all on good paths. It does him a disservice to focus on what you see. Listen to what he has to say, instead.
I know when you're drinking you don't want to hear it or maybe you don't think you're equal to the task, but Dad knows your character and strength and has faith in you. You need to set that bottle down and be present, however difficult you find it.
You may not be able to fix Dad or ease his pain, but you can ease his mind. And even though that alone would be a wonderful thing, it's not just for him but for your job, your girlfriend, and mostly for you.
Dad doesn't want you laying down on sidewalks - he wants you to be present. BE PRESENT. It's important.
Love you more than I can say, and just want to let you know that there's nothing you need to hide from.
P.S. Thank you for the mac and cheese and Scream card, but mostly for the sentiments within the card. I love you infinitely.
P.P.S. Christ, I can be bossy. Sorry to say, but I think you're stuck with me and my "do this" and "don't do that". It's my nature. I've come to terms with it, hope you have too and take it in the spirit it's offered :)
Shit, Meliss. I would not have it any other way. Your "bossiness," I mean. :-)
As for my Avoidance, I need to change that. I don't know that putting down the bottle--which I will do--will cause me to visit thew 'rents more. I have been sober most of the time during Dad's illness. What the fuck is wrong with me? I haven't a clue.
That being said, I think that life flows a little easier when the glass bottles of Packaged Poison are put out to pasture.
So. And then it goes.
I love you, my twin. =o)
:-(
I was always in denial when my grandpa got sick a few years ago. It didn't really hit me until the last time I saw him before he died, and I was horrified at how small and frail he seemed. I'm never going to take any family member for "granted" again, because that always keeps me from spending any meaningful time with them, because I always assume I'll have more time later.
That sentence structure blew.
Frankie: God damn. You just pulled a string outta my heart.
Damn you!
;-)
Pee-Ess: You are wise beyond your years, m'boy.
Pee-Pee-Ess: Yes. That sentence structure fucking blew, Dude. I could excoriate you but I would rather sleep.
I am sorry to hear that you are going through this, and can only imagine the pain and anger and heartbreak. The love, though, that I can feel.
Focus on the love.
You are not a coward. You are going through one of the hardest things ever imaginable-- facing not only the mortality of someone you love, looked up to, and respect, but also your own mortality.
You are not a fucking prick.
You love your dad, and he knows it. You will deal with this the best way you can, and I hope you know that your dad is proud of you.
I am too.
Love.
And PEACE.
I wish that for you most of all.
Garbage should be sent to the trashcan.
Fuck.
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