One week of working on this other blog for...well I'm not even sure WHO the damn things for any more. But one week, and my brain has turned two ways. To mush, and ON me. Killer brain that it is even in an idle state, has now taken to assaulting innocent bystanders.
I started out wanting to help this friend of mine, then along the way I realized, oops, some of my own crap was wrapped up in it. This is always interesting, i have alot of crap you see.
In process, i dug out old photographs of my Dad as Foreman Scotty, and well some of my family and yours truly as a kid. Yikes! See what I mean, I'm using cartoon expletives now, holy cattle crossing batman, what's a little cow poke to do? Am i capable of doing both, of doing something LEGITIMATE with my writing? Am i going to sabatoge this opportunity???? You only need one question mark.
I adored my father, he was my saving grace when dealing with moms Alzheimers. My respite. My shot of humor in a never funny situation. The trips to get ice cream when mom would, out of the blue turn on me, making me her enemy, and betrayer. Then in an instant her compadre, or her sister from 45 years ago. Dad was my rock all those years, and when mom finally succeeded in killing herself, I felt nothing but relief for a long time. I was free, she was free, but Dad, Dad wasn't free. He had lost his soul mate, his heart beat, his hope that Mom would some day return to us full and brilliant, sharp and clear.
He never left her. He could have many times. There were times before the Alzheimers set in, that she could have left him for being a shit head but didn't. They stuck it out, they slept in the same bed every night no matter what. And the night she shot herself, I remember asking him where he was going to sleep. I couldn't imagine sleeping in the same room with all of 'it' still there. He looked me square in the eyes and said "Baby, she was my wife, I'll be sleeping in our bed."...and he broke, the one and only time.
How do we turn and look behind us without staring?
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