My Father VIII

He can't get into the car on his own anymore and can barely climb stairs. He's fragile and he can't hide it from me. I'm not sure he should be living alone but I think he would die if he went into a care home, he would lose his will to fight back...he has so little fight left in him now. He once asked me to let him die at home because he didn't want to ever become so incapable of taking care of himself that he would need assistance. It was a sign of weakness, the beginning of the end as if the only thing that was keeping him from acknowledging his slow death was the fact that he could still live alone. Now, I don't necessarily let him get by day to day on his own because he can't drive or move around; I set him up with a guy that does his grocery shopping and my cousin goes by twice a week to take him to any appointments and out for lunch. I have a sister close by but she can't be bothered anymore so I do what I can from across the country.

I watched his hands shaking as he slurped his soup and then tears roll down his cheeks when he caught me looking...he used to be the strongest man in the world to me. I choked back my own tears thinking back to when he would pick me up with one hand and swing me around and how it felt when the times were good...