So...

Published on August 9th 2012
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...I found out last night that my dad is in the hospital. My gram tells me he isn't doing too well. This time it is his pancreas.

My father has been an alcoholic, among other things, since he was a young adult.  The death of his wife, the love his life, didn't help his disease either.

I had a very painful childhood having to live with and take abuse from this man. It took me many years to not only heal from the pain but to rewire my brain. I am very, very, VERY lucky that the apple fell far from the tree. I do not suffer from the same vices that are ultimately killing my father.
Though we do not have much of a relationship I still love my father. This recent hospitalization has put many thoughts into my head. I feel bad for my dad. He lives such a miserable existence. He hasn't been the same since my mom died. I can't even begin to imagine what that kind of pain feels like. The kind of pain where you lose your best friend, your soul mate. Looking back now it seems as though my dad is still living in the 90's... he is reliving her death day to day. My heart breaks for him in that sense.

I also have pity on my father because of the hatred he holds within towards other religions and races. I know deep down my dad has a good heart... and I know his mental illnesses cannot fully be an excuse for his behavior... I just can't imagine living a life where you are always in a rage over things that don't really matter.

What saddens me the most is knowing how vulnerable he really is. He is like a child. I remember one night a few years ago he called me crying because he had recognized how old he has gotten, how many years he has wasted and how he doesn't want to die. He was listening to The Beatles and wishing he could go back in time to be young again. The thought of this call makes my stomach tie in a knot. The saddest part of all is that despite how scared of death he really is... he is the one killing himself.

He has been hospitalized several times before where the doctors literally told him "you are going to die"... and somehow he pulls through. But instead of getting help he is released and goes right back to his disease.  I know getting help isn't easy and there is no "cure" for addiction or alcoholism... but it is just terribly sad to think of an existence where you are utterly afraid of dying and you have so much regret of your past...but yet you are trapped in a mental hell that you have little power to over come. Specially if you refuse professional help.  It is why so many people struggle with addiction and a lot of them lose that battle. I cannot even imagine what it feels like to have that kind of enemy within. I can't.

On a more selfish note, I am not ready to have no parents. I know my dad and I maybe see each other only once a year, if that. And that I have to keep him at a safe distance because anything more would actually be bad for my health. And those who know of my past would tell me he doesn't deserve my love or sympathy... but he has both.  He is my father and I do love him. When I think about losing my only parent it makes me feel so alone. Which is silly because I have made a wonderful pseudo family out of friends. I know I will always have them to turn to and for support. They have been the ones by my side while my father has been absent. But even so, losing him would make me the last one standing.

There are so many things left for me to accomplish and I want my dad around for all of them. I don't know why it matters so much to me, but it does.

I know someday I will have to bury my father... but I am not ready for that time to be now or anywhere in the near future.

My father is far from perfect. But in the end I love him and I hope he can find peace... whether it is on this earth or when his energy is released back into the cosmos...