my dad is still in the hospital. he's been there nearly a week, and he now at least recognizes a couple of us kids on the phone. he's still in really bad shape, but now he's in the psych ward in wentzville. I hope there he can get a little more help than at LSL.

at this point in the most destructive phase of his life thus far, he might not have a lot of chance for recovery. he might always be crazy, mumble his words, and remain disoriented in reality. he's totally malnourished and may never be able to hold a real conversation again. when we were sitting him up and trying to make him more comfortable, I could see the skin hanging on his back. his pants won't stay on his hips, and I can't get the image of his pained, thin face from my mind.

I haven't made my dad a big part of my life these last four years, mostly because he hasn't made me a big part of his. well, maybe that's just a cop-out. I suppose I grew tired of playing the role of confidante, friend and information-giver (about my mom), and I wanted my dad back. he has never been the same since the split; there has since always been an underlying level of sadness I don't think was possible to permeate. his battle with substances was a constant. I don't think he believed he could go through a day without trying to fix the pain of life with the numbing power of booze or painkillers.

I hate to see my dad, who was once so vital, funny, alive, active and intelligent, become a bump in a bed. he can barely talk, and the other day could not sit up in bed without help. how did this happen? how did he get so bad? when did he die and maintain a heartbeat at the same time? I told steven that I sometimes want him dead because I don't want him to suffer through this pain anymore. I hate that I feel that way, but where did my dad go? it's not for me; it's for him. why put him through any more of this misery?

my grampa said that he read a book that said if one takes an tragedy very hard, it's that much easier to recover because the body does its best to repair itself. I don't think my dad has the ability to recover himself, especially after four years of straight self-destruction. he's been calling out my mom's name in his sleep almost constantly which breaks my heart. he can't let her go. he can't let anything go.

I want so badly to relieve my dad of his pain. yesterday held the first moment of hope for me, because sylvia said he was lucid enough to recognize her voice and throw in a few of his 'daddy-isms.' I just hope if he gets better, he'll be around long enough to be at her wedding.