So I'm watching my dad gasp for air with every shallow breath he takes. I'm in so much agony today knowing that he'll probably be gone within the next 5-10 years. He's too young. He my hero, my champion. He's growing weaker everyday it seems.
I hope it's in my head and not as bad as it seems but he can barely fold towels now without a struggle. It's painful and I make certain that I ask him, almost too much, if he should be doing the things he does anymore. Two summers ago he quitely quit playing golf and now folding towels or doing a sink of dishes is a struggle.
I've cried alot in the last 2 days just because its always been me and dad. He's raised me since 77, back when it wasn't hip for men to raise their own kids (or so they say). I've only left home for brief periods like in 85 when I flew to the L.A. area to drink and follow some heavy metal bands arounds. Again in 03 and 04 when I was engaged to be married. I always come back to dad's. This is home. I won't leave again. Even with the possibility of marriage someday (hopefully) I'll stay. Now dad is the priority. As he should be.
This man dealt with my active alcoholism and drug addiction in the 80's and literally would come home from work and turn on the lights to find total darkness because I had sold the lamps for money to party on. He never made me go. I won't leave him now.
When I admitted myself to treatment in February of 90 I promised God that if it were His will I'd put my life on total hold and care for my dad until the day he died. That meant and still means even if I'm 70 and my dad is 95. I'm fortunate to have a father like him. God gave me a GREAT AND AWESOME dad. I feel bad for the people who had horrible parents because I've been blessed with such a great pair. I wouldn't trade him for all the gold in the world.
I don't blog. I think you know that I hate to blog. I like to talk not write. I just had to vent this pain somewhere because tonight I have to stand before some 60 or so people and tell my story and I don't want to get bogged down crying. I'm being trusted to carry a message of recovery at an AA meeting. I've done it a thousand times and through a million different ordeals but this one hurts the most.
On one hand I wouldn't have it any other way but when dad is gone my house will be empty. No husband or girlfriend, no kids. Just me and hopefully my dogs at the very least. I don't like sports but I'll leave his Ohio State Buckeyes bedroom themed just as it is for him. His ashes will hang out in there.
I wish I could trade something for my dad to have a better lung capacity. There's no way to make the trade. Life doesn't work like that. I want to fix him just as I'm sure he wanted to fix me when I was killing myself in a bottle of booze for 10 years. Powerlessness SUCKS!
I'm crying too hard now to even wrap with up with any sense so I'm just going to ask those of you on here who are my SG friends to pray for my dad. Thanks.
I hope it's in my head and not as bad as it seems but he can barely fold towels now without a struggle. It's painful and I make certain that I ask him, almost too much, if he should be doing the things he does anymore. Two summers ago he quitely quit playing golf and now folding towels or doing a sink of dishes is a struggle.
I've cried alot in the last 2 days just because its always been me and dad. He's raised me since 77, back when it wasn't hip for men to raise their own kids (or so they say). I've only left home for brief periods like in 85 when I flew to the L.A. area to drink and follow some heavy metal bands arounds. Again in 03 and 04 when I was engaged to be married. I always come back to dad's. This is home. I won't leave again. Even with the possibility of marriage someday (hopefully) I'll stay. Now dad is the priority. As he should be.
This man dealt with my active alcoholism and drug addiction in the 80's and literally would come home from work and turn on the lights to find total darkness because I had sold the lamps for money to party on. He never made me go. I won't leave him now.
When I admitted myself to treatment in February of 90 I promised God that if it were His will I'd put my life on total hold and care for my dad until the day he died. That meant and still means even if I'm 70 and my dad is 95. I'm fortunate to have a father like him. God gave me a GREAT AND AWESOME dad. I feel bad for the people who had horrible parents because I've been blessed with such a great pair. I wouldn't trade him for all the gold in the world.
I don't blog. I think you know that I hate to blog. I like to talk not write. I just had to vent this pain somewhere because tonight I have to stand before some 60 or so people and tell my story and I don't want to get bogged down crying. I'm being trusted to carry a message of recovery at an AA meeting. I've done it a thousand times and through a million different ordeals but this one hurts the most.
On one hand I wouldn't have it any other way but when dad is gone my house will be empty. No husband or girlfriend, no kids. Just me and hopefully my dogs at the very least. I don't like sports but I'll leave his Ohio State Buckeyes bedroom themed just as it is for him. His ashes will hang out in there.
I wish I could trade something for my dad to have a better lung capacity. There's no way to make the trade. Life doesn't work like that. I want to fix him just as I'm sure he wanted to fix me when I was killing myself in a bottle of booze for 10 years. Powerlessness SUCKS!
I'm crying too hard now to even wrap with up with any sense so I'm just going to ask those of you on here who are my SG friends to pray for my dad. Thanks.
VIEW 21 of 21 COMMENTS
Your blog touched me. I was a caregiver for my mother with Parkinson's, and other assorted physical and mental health issues, for almost two years. It's an incredibly difficult experience trading places with your parents when they become dependent upon you! All I can say is... remember to take some time for you, cause otherwise it can become hard to give from a place of love.
I'll be thinking of you and your father