Here we go again...

My dad is in the hospital, YET again. Here we go. . let the fun and games begin. I wonder when it will stop, when it will end. I have no answer for that, no one does. This is dad's second visit this year, and we are not even to the 1/2 way point. His first visit lasted 6 weeks, involved surgery and a steel pin in his hip, DT's, nicotine with drawl, not fun. There were 2 visits last year, with more of the same. There is no-one that can answer the underlying question, how long this time? Is this the beginning of the end? Or is it simply round.. what ever # it is? Will he even come home? Or will we be playing this game for awhile longer? We certainly do not know, the doctors do not know, this is the slow, unpredictable, and painful death that is alcoholism. We were told years ago that it could be quick or it could be slow and painful, there were symptoms, ugly symptoms that would start appearing, they have, they are growing in intensity, and it is as the doctor said ugly. Despite them all he chose to continue down the same path, choosing the easy road, drinking to forget, drinking to avoid living life.

For those of you who know me know that for lack of a better words my relationship with my dad is at best strained. For those of you who do not I will ask you to trust me on that one. For years I held onto hope... hope that one day he would see the light, see that there is life beyond the beer bottle, local bar or 19th hole at the golf course. I guess until the last breath is taken there is always hope, and I will hope that just once he will want to see me, to talk to me, to repair what was broken long ago - hope is all I have. BUT ?

Is it wrong to hope that it is over soon? Is it wrong for a daughter to hope that time will be short for her dad. It sounds so cold, so wrong but I want this roller coaster ride to be over! And sadly it is not because I do not want him to suffer, which I do not, it is a selfish wish, I just want it all to be over, finished for once and all. For the games to stop, for the lies to stop, for the weariness to end. I am tired of wondering when it will end. Just plain tired of it all. Tired of the sorrow I see in my mom's eyes, the evasive answers when I ask her how she is doing, tired of seeing her held back to care for him. Tired of how his choices even now shadow my life.

I know that there are those of you out there that would not even remotely understand those questions, those of you who have great relationships with your fathers, those of you who will feel a hole when they are not here. Those of you who have lost your daddies and wish for just one more moment with them. For you who are in those shoes, you are blessed beyond measure, hold on tight, treasure that! It is a gift of gigantic proportions. I wished, and I dreamed of that for years, but I am not one of those girls.

I will always regret the fact that my dad chose the beer bottle over relationship with his family, that the draw of the drink was a greater draw than his children. I will always regret that, but I refuse to let my life be guided by regret, especially regret that was way way beyond my control. Forgiveness is a gift I gave myself a long time ago. Forgiveness for missed dance recitals, school programs, teacher meetings, promised rides or trips, I let it all go realizing that it was way out of my control. That there was nothing left for me to do to repair that relationship, it is crazy out of my control and only he could make those changes.

The whole thing just makes me sad, that deep in your heart achy kind of sad...sad for what should have been, could have been, what would have been if he made different choices. Yes I want it to end, but mostly I wish it could have been different.

Sometimes life is not fair....

Tonight (well last night seeings as it is 6 am and I have been up for a couple of hours because I could not sleep so it still feels like last night) I attended a memorial service for a young man I did not know, but a young boy that I did and remember. I am connected closely to his extended family, they are the type of friends that I hope and pray that my girls will have one day. The type of friends that you just pick up the pieces from where you left of on the last visit and move forward forging new memories, the type of friends who know your heart, the type you miss when it has been too long, and when you are together time flies like there is no tomorrow. The type of friend that is closer than most family - these would be the family you CHOOSE for yourself kind of friends.

Tonight my friends were hurting, deep agonizing hurts that all you can do is step beside and give a hug and be there. The type of hurt where words seem shallow and your presence is enough. Though truly a sad occasion, I was blessed to be able to step up beside my friends and just be there, knowing that just by doing that they knew they were loved. To be able to share in grief at this level is hard, there are so many questions, and so few answers but it is the right thing to do. At the core of who we are as humans we need to connect with others, connections that run deeper than the surface, connections that bond hearts so that in the tough times you do not feel alone. I am emotionally spent, but would not trade it for anything. Just knowing that just by being there I was able to encourage my friends was worth the red eyes and soggy tissues. I would do it again in a heart beat, but hope that I do not have to for a very long time.

Sitting at the service my heart broke for the sadness in Tom's dad's eyes, pain that runs deep, questions that are there but not asked, simply put heartbreak at the rawest form. 22 is much to young to die. Heartbreak for the tragic way poor choices can end a life in the blink of an eye. How drugs in today's world are such a draw to young people as a way to escape when there seems to be no other way then they hook them and their lives are never the same. It truly seems un fair! No parent should have to bury a child. I remember thinking that for the first time after my uncle passed looking into the eyes of my dear heartbroken grandma , or 17 years ago when stomach cancer took a friend at the age of 21, then yet again when I watched a friend carry the coffin of her twin infant girls to a very small grave, and last year when I sat in the service remembering the life of a 6 year old. It is grief at it's rawest for sure.

Deep wrenching hurt - the kind that cause people to question God, to question if he exists, or if he cares. The kind of hurt that has people calling out to God even if they never have before because they want some hope, some assurance that somewhere in the universe there is a heaven and that their loved ones will be safe there. The God they may have cursed in the past becomes the life line they desperately cling to. The same God that with time brings comfort and healing to the hurts, will also be the same God who brings renewed joy as they move forward.

I know that life is not fair, I could tell you dozens of persona stories to support that, but life fair or not is life and every day we have a choice... we can either live and learn or complain and conk. I choose to live and learn, allowing myself to grow into a better person. Knowing that one day down the road the lessons I have learned will help someone else. Just like tonight, my friends were hurting and I was able to just be there in support and just loving them where they are at. And it was good!