Home...The Other One XIII

I barely unpacked my things after I got back home when I received another call about my father, he's back in the hospital after suffering several heart attacks...how much more can one man take?

I flopped on my bed and closed my eyes, I'm exhausted. I hadn't even been home for 2 weeks when it was time to head out again, and not even to New York...I was going back home to my father. I don't think I have ever spent this much time in a place I have come to hate. The doctors told my cousin dad won't make it much longer, excuse my eye roll but they have been saying that for the best part of the last two years. Either way, I have to go because if they are right I don't want him to die alone and if they are wrong, I at least want him to know I care enough to make the trip.

I called my friend at WestJet to use my buddy passes then made arrangement for one of my sisters. My father has three daughters, my sister Patricia and I do not have any contact with his other daughter and have only met her a handful of times over our lives. She doesn't see my dad, although she lives in the same city, I don't ask why, I don't care why, I'm just there for dad. I booked our flights to meet in Toronto...I'm tired and scared, but I'm also ready.

Home...The Other One XII

I always loved leaving, seeing the city I had come to loath slowly shrinking in my rearview mirror. I hardly said a word on the way back to New York, thinking about what to do next for my father and aching to get home and leave this behind me for now. I wanted to see New York, to wash away the past and live in my love and passion. Joesph never said much other than asking if I needed to stop or if I was hungry, I wasn't. He turned on the music to drown out the silence and give a new feel to the mood. I was happy he came along it felt batter knowing I could leave at any time and not feel stranded.

I laid my seat back and closed my eyes...a wave of exhaustion hit me and I surrender...

Home...The Other One XI

I met with the doctor on my last day, he doesn't have anything new to say or hope to lend...every morning he wakes it is just dumb luck. My father would be going home in two days if nothing changed, to be honest, I wasn't even sure what type of change to hope or pray for. Do I pray to the heavens that his life is extended knowing full well that he suffers with each breath or do I hope that the suffering ends knowing it means I'll never see him again.

We sat beside the window while he drank his tea and I sipped on my coffee...he knows today is the day I leave and I can feel his sadness. He didn't say much, just stared out the window while tears streamed down his face. He wants to say good bye but can't bring himself to speak, I squeezed his hand lightly and rested my head on his shoulder....

Home...The Other One X

After I cleaned his apartment and refreshed it with all new linen and a fridge stocked of all friendly diabetic foods I could find I went back to the hospital.

I found him sitting in a chair by the window eating his lunch, he immediately cried when he saw me. I always ignore it, it's not his fault. The several strokes he has suffered over the years makes it impossible for him to hide emotions and cues me on being more compassionate towards him.

"Hey dad, whatcha eating?"
"Just a sandwich, it's not very good." He smiled through his tears
"I brought you your favourite chicken and a Diet Pepsi. Doc said it was all good."

He tossed his entire tray into the garbage to make room for his take out. Doc said he's amazed everyday my father wakes up so I'm allowed to spoil him with his favourite foods. Several doctors have chimed in during our meetings to express their shock that he has survived countless heart attacks and strokes, diabetes, gout and cancer. More than once I have heard, "it's an amazing anomaly that he is still breathing, he should have been dead years ago." They go so far as to even question why I would deny him cigarettes since there is no reverse in his condition...just living and suffering with it all.

I placed my own lunch down across from him and for the first time in a very long time...we had lunch, just me and my dad.

Home...The Other One IX

We went by my father's place the next morning and I gathered him some things to make him feel comfortable, things that were familiar to him. His place tastes like cigarette smoke and it's throughout the building. I looked through the papers on his kitchen table, it's all little pictures of the life he used to have, I wonder how often he looks at these.

Everything looked grey, covered in smoke and dust. I hung my jacket on the door and grabbed some garbage bags and proceeded to throw out all of his linen, pillows as well as his blankets on the couch he pretty much lives on. Maybe if I can clean his space up a bit he will be more comfortable, I don't even know if that's an option anymore. Joseph stood in the kitchen watching me run back and forth filling bag after bag of his bedding and towels, tying them up and tossing them into the hallway.

When every surface was wiped and the apartment was stripped Joseph helped me carry everything to the dumpster out back. "Can you take me shopping?" I was exhausted and emotionally drained.

"Sure, I can go fishing tomorrow." He placed his arm around my shoulder and walked me back to the truck.