The 'L' Word

So, I haven't written for quite a while, but what is there to say? In the time since my last post, my father has rapidly declined. This, coupled with an unrelated but equally distressing lawsuit brought upon us by a family member, has made the past year bewildering.

The shining light through all of this has been the support of you, our friends. We would not be here without your thoughts and encourgament. However, our time on this blog is drawing to a close.

With one word, our endpoint set:
 'leukemia'

Of course, we all knew this day would come. After all, we know what waits at the end of living in a nursing home. People don't get better. They die.

 I feel so many things. Heart-wrentching grief for my mother. Paralyzing fear of what is yet to come. But overall, I am burdened with guilt. Guilt. Because, my dead friends, the secret that I harbor so deep inside is that I am relieved. To be free of this lead weight that sits on my chest. To not feel compelled to sit up at night womdering if my father thinks he is all alone- unloved and discarded in a strange, frightening place. To exhale. To breathe again.

And yet.

It is more likely that the fear and worry I feel will be replaced by only emptyness. After all, can one who has been wrenched in twain ever be truly whole again? The passage of time is a salve that supposedly heals all. Perhaps it will heal me as well. Until them, I strive to keep my family in my heart as I desparately cling to memories of the past and hope to some day make new memories that will carry us into the future.

 My love to all. -J

The Beginning

Where to start. I guess I should take the Sound of Music approach and 'start at the very beginning.' On Saturday (June 11th), I got a call from the Pueblo police department because my dad had dialed 911 saying that there was an intruder in the house that 'looked like his dead relative.'

'Ooohh Kay,' I thought. Sure, my dad had problems with procedural memory sometimes (like washing clothes or mowing the law), but he had never had hallucinations (that I knew of). My mom had been out of town since the previous Wednesday and my dad was alone.

I called one of my parent's neighbors and they stayed with my dad until I could get to Pueblo (a 2.5 hour drive). When I got to my parent's house, my dad seemed to be 'ok,' so I told the neighbor that he should go home and I could handle everything. How wrong I was.

After the neighbor left, I sent my dad to go change his clothes (he was dressed in his church clothes), but after 20 minutes of waiting, I decided to go check on him. That was when I realized I was in over my head. He was partially undressed staring blankly at a bare wall. Before I could make a sound, my dad whispered, 'Don't make a sound. They will hear you.'

He proceeded to grab my arm and point out numerous people in the house. Pointing at thin air. In truth, I would not have been a bit surprised if he had been wearing an aluminum foil hat.

'I know you can't see them,' he said. 'They altered reality so that I can see them and everyone else can't.'

Then he continued to tell me about how the people are conspiring against him and threatening the family. Honestly, I will never be able to put into words how it felt to watch a man that was the stable, constant influence in my life become a scared, confused, man-child.

I persuaded him to sit down at the dining room table and I called the neighbor back over (so that I would have 'backup' in case something happened).

I said to him, 'I believe that you believe what you are seeing. However, I would like to make sure that there isn't something medically wrong with you.'

After much convincing, he agreed to go to the hospital as long as I promised to take him to the police afterward (so that he could tell them about the conspiracy and determine if the people in the house had any right to be there).

My Dad

Welcome! Because so many of you have asked about how my father is doing, I decided to start a blog to keep everyone updated. Disclaimer: I'm not a poetic writer, so please excuse the 'bare bones' posts.

You may wonder how I came up with the blog title, 'The Fisherman in the Cowboy Hat.' That is a homage to my dad's quirky fashion choices. The cowboy hat was my dad's 'go to' accessory anytime he went outside- whether it be mowing the lawn, working in the garden, or even going fishing. Picture John Wayne minus the handkerchief and funny walk.

(I wish I had a picture of him in his cowboy hat, but this is pretty cute too).

Anyway, I'll try to update this as we go along. Until then:

 'Wherever you go and whatever you do,
May the luck of the Irish be there with you.'