It was a Canadian long weekend — I think the States had one too — and turkey was had by all. Happy belated Thanksgiving, my fellow Canucks.
The holidays tend to depress me. I’ve got one parent dead and six feet other, and every holiday reminds me how, sooner or later, that number’s changing to two. It’s looking sooner than later by the looks of my dad, so I’m feeling a little sad and scared, really. I feel like his counter’s officially counting down now as his diabetes looks like it’s winning the battle they’ve been fighting. Suffice to say, I’m in the right mood to have found this website.
I don’t really have a lot to write about today, though, as it’s been a busy weekend.
I’ve thinking a lot of my dad and taking the chance that he doesn’t read this blog at all, by posting here, but if he was to read it, that’d be fine too. I love my dad, even though we’re cut from very different cloths. I’m much more into culture and I’m more worldly than he his. He’s more of a bingo player than anything, really. But I still love him, even though we’ve got nothing in common.
I tell him I love him and have tried to make him see that I’d like to ensure he’s around down the road for me. If I do marry, I’d like him to see it happen. If I do become the success I’d like to be, I’d like to have a shoulder squeeze and giddy smile from my pop.
But he eats horribly. He will eat any and all things, and he’ll even have wine, though he’s been told his heart can’t handle it. He’s diabetic, and he has weeping ulcers on his leg, and worse. And, me, I remember I’m not that far off from being a little girl after all. I saw him yesterday, and I would be surprised if I was very wrong about how long he might be around. I’m scared, I’m sad, I’m feeling a little alone.
Worse is, I remember the day I looked at my mom and knew she wouldn’t be around for another year — long before a doctor’s diagnosis ever confirmed anything.
I’ve gone through some phases with some anger in the last week, moments when I feel terribly guilty, as if my mother’s death was my fault as a result of my inaction after my suspicions began. My father, though, has long known of my concern and chooses to ignore it. I now avoid him a bit, but mostly because it breaks my heart every time I go over and see how much he’s not doing to improve his health. I can’t sit idly by as someone so obviously decides not to choose life in front of me, you know?
All things considered, I’d rather have a hug. What can I say? Holidays suck when it means you’re constantly realizing that parents won’t be around much longer. Yeesh. It’s hard to watch someone slowly lose a battle to a disease. The five-minute cancer death of my mother’s was easier, in some respects. Sigh. Well, one major holiday down, one to go.