so my dad may be dying, and his wife may be the person putting the bullets in his head. I never, ever trusted that woman, even when I gave her the chance to be a decent human being. when I lived with my dad, I remember getting really pissed at her and him because I was locked out and bella (an itty bitty puppy back then) was chained up outside. I never stayed there for more than a night since, and I found a new home for bella.

the kitchen was a sight to see. when she first moved in, I found a huge handle of whisky on the counter and an equally large bottle of wine nearby. um, when my dad has had a history of alcoholism, those items should not be in close range. I knew before I knew her that she was an alcoholic; I could sense it. she would sleep all day long. I could spend all day at my dad's house and would never see the bedroom door open. my dad would tell me stories about how she would try to go to work in the early mornings, but because she "wasn't a morning person," she ran over an elderly woman and took out three trees along with the bottom of her car...but she hadn't been drinking.....?

denial is such a disgusting thing.

so now my dad is dying. I've been sensing it for quite some time. he gave up on living when donna moved in I think. when someone is constantly enabling your bad behaviors and curing all of your insecurities, inadequacies and sadness with booze, everything becomes one big blur. I saw my dad stop caring about me, my sibs and himself. he's so enamored with his own death and destruction that I don't think he even cares much about my mom. I never thought that would happen. that's when I knew he wasn't coming back to us.

he might have cancer. his brain is currently being poisoned by the constant stream of alcohol running its course in his system. donna hands him a drink at every chance she gets; it's her cure for any of his ailments, physically and beyond. my only consolation is that I don't think he likes her much anyway. it's just easy to keep someone around when they're always nice to you and give you the medication you crave.

my dad has given up hope. he is waiting to shrivel up and perish. I can't blame donna for his relinquishing the only thing that has kept his alive thus far, but I can't understand how and why she can just wait for a good man to die. if my dad is worth anything in any kind of life insurance policy, then great - she can have the money because that's all she thinks he's worth. but at one time, my dad was a good man. at one time, my dad was my hero, the most handsome man in the world. he cared, he loved, he smiled, and he didn't think anything in the world would disrupt the life he had built. then everything changed.

I don't cry about my dad now. he has been absent to me for so long I don't think I'd be crying for much. I have his eyes, and at one time I had his love - love he gave freely. I hate to admit this, but when I think of my dad gone, I almost feel relieved. he wouldn't be in pain anymore. I won't have to think about the world of torture he carries behind his eyes. he wouldn't have to live long enough to continue hating himself.

I love my dad and I don't want him to die. but the truth is, he already has.