Tag: Acceptance

Dear Dad, thank you for calling…

Dear Dad, thank you for calling…

I look at it this way Pops. Our futures have intertwined so that both us may come to know a final peace and understanding of ourselves. I’ve always known the only way through any or all of this was was by having to find a way to not only forgive and forget, but to also remember the love that was there as well.

If you’re willing to reach out today and ask for help, and I’m more than touched that you did. Than let’s find that peaceful journey for you to the next chapter of you life and in turn both our lives as father and son. I picked a beautiful spot by a pond with wildlife galore. Come and enjoy it with me…

I’m sorry your wife wants to move on right now. I can’t imagine how difficult or painful that must be while continuing to combat the effects of parkinson’s on a daily basis. We can and will find a way to provide better for you including living with me in a two bedroom home already outfitted with support bars in the bath and shower and your own bedroom to boot. (I planned it that way when I moved here two years ago,)

You’ve always trusted me to handle complex paperwork for you. When I was younger and there were all sorts of health insurance forms or union documents to read and figure out you always turned to me for help. It was out bonding time together. I loved when you’d trust me because you knew I was smart and I’d get a kick out of seeing you smile like “Oh yeah, I get it now. Thanks!” I never knew it was from the dyslexia you’d grown up with all your life. I enjoyed the trust and you trusted me in turn.

I was proud to be the son of a union factory worker. You worked you way to shop steward by reading and re-reading all of the contracts and union books. You always had a strong sense of right and wrong when it came to the working man and you’d go to bat for them. Some of the best memories I have is going to union hall meetings with all the cigarette smoking and guys yelling at the mic;s in the aisles. You never gave up and you never took a hand out either. I remember more than a few strikes and picket lines too.

I’ve never forgotten where I came from Pops…

I can safely say that after spending more than just a few 24 hours “on the inside” of more than a couple dozen rehabs and psych wards. I fully understand the fear of having your life upended and landing somewhere when you no longer decide what bedtime is or where or when you get to take a walk. It’s scary and I totally get it. That’s why I need you to trust me now and let’s get you someplace safe. Hopefully with me here in Massachusetts. If you’re going to need 24 hour care for medication reminders every three hours, I’m more than willing to do that for you.

I’m glad you called this evening. And I’m even more glad that you acknowledged I was angry but that you were willing to move on. That meant a lot to me. So if you’ll trust me once again to get you to the next step I’m ready when you are.

Your Son, ~R

thursday…8:37 PM

thursday…8:37 PM

…bad day today. one of those days where my body let’s me know how much it hates me by making every inch of it ache. brain fog pushing against you while trying to string together sequential thoughts.

coffee first, no, not coffee…which…backtrack, cats…yeah cats first…no no not that either…bathroom definitely bathroom…everything hurts. back, shoulders, neck, legs, feet, knees, hips. i want to crawl back into bed but have to try and keep moving.

on these days i measure my accomplishments by task completed and in as few steps as possible. i hate being physically winded when my brain is overloaded, makes pushing back against the rage and frustration of simple things a lot more difficult.

8:54pm the tv just came on by itself. happens every once and awhile and doesn’t bother me oddly enough. must be vern or my sister having some fun, nothing to lose sleep over.

cuckoo clock strikes early and the gentle tick tock resumes… funny how they speed up or slow down depending on the humidity. the living room humidifier needs refilling and i think i need a fire tonight. soothes the arthritis.

flashbacks can come in all sorts of forms i think. like dreamscapes that seamlessly work their way into your thoughts and before you realize it you’re transported right back to that particular moment in time…

i have tunnel vision and i’m looking at a long concrete walkway, it dips down at the middle and then leads to a set of steps. patches of grass but mostly dirt to the right, tallish grass along the rusty chain link fence to the left. a long row of identical single story apartments were on the other side.

i never liked the concrete stairs, too granular and hurt your knees and hands when playing. we must have had a front door but i never recall one. my film only ever sees it with through the screen door, shafts of light coming right filling the small living area.

a faux avocado finished console style record player was front and center. can’t remember where she got it but she was happy trying to refinish it. some combination of avo green pain and black and somehow you got some wood grain. lines of black mingling with the more predominant and shiny looking green. one large round speaker on the front with some gold’ish fabric for a cover. i’d play my peter pan record on it over and over.

9:21pm tired, exasperated, frustrated. trying not to let my depression and anxiety get the best of me so i’ll pick this up later. writing about things does seem to help.

like unpacking a dusty leather bound chest from the attic and taking things out one by one. in a place of silence and calm without distraction. even if my body isn’t cooperating, i still know i’m one of the lucky ones.

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