I am enjoying my new found solitude.
T has been gone 10 days now. There are many moments that I miss her.
Expected, I guess…
I do have to admit that while there is grief, I am glad it is finally over. Both of us are free at last.
She dropped by today to pick up a few things she forgot. We were friendly. She was he 15 minutes, then gone again.
My dad is home from the hospital (his home). We had a good talk before he was discharged.
A ‘once-in-a-lifetime’ talk.
Patience is in order when working long term family issues. Life is long. I am 49. He is 74. Only now are we putting the final demons to rest. We love each other. Respect each other. He is proud of me. I am proud of him. All of that mushy shit that fathers never want to talk about.
I looked him in the eye and told him he is an alcoholic and I love him anyway.
“It doesn’t matter to me pop, if you drink or not. I came to terms with that a long time ago. You are a fun, functional alcoholic. Life of the party. However, your wife is pissed off about your drinking, and you can’t come live with me, so you have to figure out what to say to her.”
He laughed. Agreed. “Well I admit sometimes it does get out of hand. But she is worse than me. She hides it.”
So we talked. He agreed to quit and to require her to quit too. He told me where to find her stash and I found it. Under the sink, behind the dishwasher. 1 bottle of scotch and 1 bottle of vodka. Both 2/3rd empty. Neither was dusty. My step brother and I hauled it all out of the house. He took it to his father-in-law. Who apparently is ‘not a drinker’. Yeah, right….
Stacy and I are still enjoying our victorian courtship. She is almost half way done with her program. It is good for both of us. The boundaries are helping each of us. We can care and support, but then still devote the majority of our energy on self repair. The letters are intimate. They make my day every time. The visits are recharging. We sit in the courtyard of the facility, hold hands. Talk. Fully clothed. Although I do peek down her shirt on occasion when I am there. Go figure.
The writing muse has been sparse lately, and I have not been hobbying at all.
I think about it. A lot.
I have been exercising and spending time in my own skin instead. Not that I’ll never get back to it. Just not right now.
I feel good.