Beneath clouds blanket this morning I walked the darkness pondering what is to come. Without fear but some respect I wondered if life would show continued kindness to my father. He was a man of hardness and now rage and lack of consideration made their presence known.
Every closet still full of mothers cloths I struggled to convince him to release them to others in need, in place of hint of coin. Just over a year and still his heart was blackened in sorrow and guilt. Last Friday too similar in nature as we argued to bring him in for medical help. The same words, the same venom, the same look so near my conversation with Mom. Deaths grip was tenacious and it bent little for mere mortals in its work.
Argument and stubbornness until his release Sunday, the same words, the same venom, the same look. The same promise he was fine to take care of himself.
Then last evening the hint in asking me to drop by. I knew he would not be alone and that rest would be the first requirement. Still the admittance in weakness a monument in making for one who ruled earth previously. After years it landed without emotion before me lost in my numbness. The same month this journey began for my mother and I dreaded tomorrow for my father as I was powerless in its play. I was just a extra in the film of life unable to influence the director of dads story. Some how I would have to survive the days of work, homes responsibilities while tending to dads struggle without being lost at sea.
I had faced death more than once myself and I knew what a poor loser it could be never giving up on the fight to claim what it felt belonged to it. I recognized the same words, the same venom, the same look this time knowing fathers time was limited. Beneath clouds blanket surrounded in darkness I just didn’t know my part yet for these are the times mans true colors were seen. I know both father and I are a part of deaths play but my lines are yet to be written.