Away

12 05 2007

j0407442 (2)

“I’m away,” the message on my instant messenger reads.  The brief message gives the reader plenty of opportunity to imagine that I’m catching up on some cleaning and organization around the house, using up the last of my monthly cell phone minutes, or lost in the fantasy realm of an old, dusty book.  When the truth is, I’m just hiding.   

This Mother’s Day marks the third anniversary of The Beginning of the End.  Three years ago exactly, I fell down the rabbit hole, and I’ve been lost in Wonderland casing after white rabbits and Cheshire Cats ever since.  I remember walking into my mom’s bedroom to find her staring in disbelief at several credit cards bills in her hands – credit cards we supposedly didn’t even have.  My dad had racked up quite a hefty sum, but not only that, he’d been lying about it to all of us for months.  I was angry and confused, to put it mildly. 

It wasn’t until later that same year — while on vacation in Disneyland – we realized it was much more than a midlife crisis and a pricey shopping spree.  We learned he’s dying very slowly at the hands of the silent killer known as Dementia, which was why he’d lost interest in his family; along with losing impose control and his moral compass to boot.

Things have changed drastically since our first unforgettable Mother’s Day.  My dad’s living in an apartment on his own, we’ve moved to a new town, and his heath is much worse.  But much like three years ago, mom and I find ourselves very concerned about yet another thing he appears to be concealing from us.  Only this time, I’m concerned he’s become involved with someone.

Three years ago, if I’d even suspected for a moment my dad was involved with someone else I would have been devastated, but now I feel too apathetic to even care much.  When mom and I discussed earlier today how we’re concerned, my eloquent, thoughtful response to the situation was, “Well, this isn’t cool.”   

I know my dad wouldn’t have wanted any of this; I know he doesn’t have the same level of control anymore, but that only adds another layer to my frustration.  I don’t blame anyone; its nobodies fault, but I’m still angry any of this is even happening. 

I need a moment to breath, a chance to collect my thoughts, and to simply get away.

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