Life

Sunday night I cried, weeped, bauled, lost it.

I couldn't tell where the root of my emotion stemmed from.  All I could feel was sadness welling up deep from within me.  It made my eyes well with tears and my crying could not be contained or quelled.  I hurt from the deepest point in me.  I sobbed in pain.

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Yesterday was the first time I've seen or spoken to my father in over ten years.  Though I felt righteous in my anger at him over the things he has done (and those who know the details agree with me) when I came in and saw him so sick in his bed all I could do was give him a hug and tell him I'm sorry he's so sick.

My father has multiple myeloma - bone marrow cancer.  I came to help my stepmother care for him.

What I noticed first was that he's gotten bigger.  Not only has he gained weight but his face was very swollen and red.  His lip has a permanent furl where his cigarettes dangle from his mouth.  He's older and ill but he hasn't really changed a bit.

Though I've spent concerted effort attempting to prepare for this moment, I did what felt natural; I fell into my family role as caretaker, mediator & peacemaker.  The hard questions may still be coming, but they haven't found their way out yet.  At this point I realize that I can't predict or script what will happen or how I will react.  All I know is that I promised myself that I will not continue in this relationship without very real honesty.  To me this means that at some point we need to discuss our troubled past.  I don't know how to broach that subject; I don't know when the moment will come but I am confident that I will know when the time is right and that I will have an opportunity to air my soul.

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Since then I have been cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping, picking up prescriptions, taking my step mom to the neurologist, and picking out geriatric specialty items that will accomodate the 300 pound "baby buddah" (my stepmom's name for him) we tend to.  I have only been here 36 hours and already I am exhausted.  In total I will be here a week.  Though that sounds like a lot of time for my sleepless self at this point, I recognize that a week caring for an ailing person is not very much.  There are so many people who struggle with this intensive care alone and for a long time; my stepmother is one of them.

Meanwhile, it is hard to sleep.  Clearly, I have a lot on my mind.