This isn't normal & Getting kicked while down

I can't even finish being sad about one thing before the next thing hits. The guy I've been dating for a month... 2 days shy of a month... Was just shot and killed Sunday night... Monday morning. I might have been the last person he talked to on the phone... The last person  he texted... The last person  he went out to get food  with... The last person he held in his arms.

My eyes are swollen from crying all Monday. My feet are heavy. He kept telling me all day "don't leave me" because I plan on moving... But I can't help but wonder if it was a plea for not leaving him that Sunday evening. He once told me not to tell him goodbye... I had told him goodbye on that phone that night... 20 mins before he was murdered... Was it a premonition? Or simply force of habit. Ugh... I replay the day/s over and over and over all Monday.

 Today, I wake up in a bed that we just slept in together the night before the shooting to a call from my brother,  "is dad home? He didn't come home last night and mom was looking for him this morning." I get up to check his room,  the living room, the neighbors houses..... OF COURSE HE'S NOT THERE!

How do I process everything at once. I lay in bed another 15 mins... I just don't want to think right now. My brother is headed to Palmdale, my mom is at work... They act as if this is normal.

Im just getting back from looking for him... I can barely drive, my eyes are so tired. My soul is begging for relief. I didn't think it was possible to cry anymore than I already had... More tears. I can't drive right now, I pull over in the middle of the two lane highway. I need to head home.

None of this is/can be normal!

HEY 2016!

Usually when I write here it's to help relieve stress and or frustration from the things that dad does. I'm pleased to be writing a different story as I ring in 2016.

I took mom to the la zoo lights for her birthday and we brought dad along. As we get towards the end of the event and begin to walk back to the front of the zoo dad's weight begins to buckle under him. I ask  him should I run to get a wheel chair... The prideful man he is wouldn't allow him to say yes. He said "heck no!" So we slowly took our time walking back... Sat down a couple times to take a break. I began to walk slowly as I was posting a pic on the 'gram and as I fell behind I captured this...

Mom and dad hand and hand... Awww :')... Sight for sore eyes!

My <3 melted

Happy New Year everybody!! We're off to a great start!

XO

One year later...

I just get back from dropping tiff off at the airport... I hear something crash to the ground as I enter the house. I proceed slowly. It's just he and I... Tiff on her way back to atl, mom at work and dez ubering (maybe).

I enter the room to make  sure everything is OK... Low and behold a huge puddle of pee and pee soaked clothes on the ground... The bed wet, his shirt and pants wet.

My immediate reaction: "come on dude, you can't have these wet clothes on the ground" Needless to say frustration sets in. I quickly simmer down as I know he needs my assistance : fresh clothes, a shower, clean bedding... & Pee free floor. I get to work.

Grab him some fresh clothes ask him to clean himself up and hop in the shower. I clean the floor first, his house slippers are also pee soaked... I dump the sheets and clothes in the washer... Search for clean sheets in mom's room.

Meanwhile he's taking a nice long shower... Steam is coming from the bathroom... I know how good that hot water feels. I ask him if he's ok... He says yes.

I proceed to changing the sheets.

He finally gets out of the shower and bathroom smelling fresh and looking better.  I ask "are you OK?" his response "no" I ask "what's wrong, what else do you need?" he said "I need to throw this (his old depends) in the trash outside"... He walks away very slow. I repeat what I said... He says again that he needs to go to the trash.

I go to my room and it hits me... Not like a ton of bricks, but very gently. I sob soft tears. I think to myself no one really knows the struggle... Then I think about the people who do, Stephanie, Anthony, a friend who recently lost his mom, my mom. Who am I to be sad? Do I have the right to be upset? The other night I was feeling down about this situation as well, and I was told that I'll get through it and that I'm strong. Sometimes i/you get tired of being strong... Then I snap out of my rut and work up the strength to be strong again... I have to be... Dont I? What else can I be?

One person that stays strong through it all is my mom... I mean she has her moments... But day in and day out dealing with my dad, her husband, and the same routine... How does she do it? How do we do it?

Thank you mother nature for my extra sensitivity this month lol (can anyone else sense my sarcasm)

He's in bed now...resting...and not ok. I don't think any of us are. (ok, that is).  

The good ole days

It's hard to think that this is the same week that dad was sleeping on the porch. (There goes that thing with time again)

I finally took it upon myself to get out my holiday box to put up some decorations.  Still no tree, but I figured I'd at least put lights up.  When I think about Christmas these days I feel less compelled to celebrate it..my thoughts are you celebrate it if you have kids or a significant other. I have no kids and am single, but I bought lights last year and figure we need to get in some type of holiday spirit around here!!!!

So I head outside to figure out how to hang these lights on my house when dad comes outside to join me.  I'm glad he was there to help.  It reminded me of being a kid again at our house climbing behind him on the ladder to get on the roof and help.  For some reason I loved being up there, seeing as far as my eye could see, spying into our neighbors yards lol.  When I first did it mom was a bit worried, dad knew I was smart and coordinated and seemed to love the help. Those were definitely the good old days!!

Now the tables have turned, and my dad is helping me.  We didn't exactly have to get on the roof, or actually I couldn't figure out if it made sense as it was getting dark and I have spanish tile and didn't want to crack one in the dark.  So we made due with what we had, a step stool and some ingenuity.  Dad held the trail of lights, while I put the gutter clips on the lights and then attached them to the gutters.  We managed to get two thirds of the lights up.  I asked my neighbor to borrow his ladder, but it was too short to reach the tall part so we had to leave the rest for tomorrow.

I know dad felt a sense of accomplishment and felt useful, like a normal human being should feel.  He's so excited about finishing up tomorrow he won't stop talking about it.  Most rely's on my neighbor to get his tall ladder loose from some overgrown bushes and my client appointments.  If we don't get it done tomorrow, we'll definitely finish on Sunday. As he likes to say, "Teamwork makes the dream work!"

Here's to creating new memories!!!

I apologize

Dad called me on the phone today...he said he was sorry for what happened a couple nights ago.  I apologized too.  For now, things are back to "normal".  He gave me the usual "God loves you and so do I. Have a blessed day."  And we hung up.

"Bitter"...

are the words uttered from moms lips as she expresses her sentiment towards her/our situation.  Her demeanor is calm, I could feel her energy as she sat down on my bed. She took a moment to gather herself.  I could tell she was trying her hardest to hold back bursting into a sob fest.  She told me she had a calm conversation with dad today and he expressed that he wanted to be talked to like a human and if we could talk slow so he could understand.  I'm sure mom would love to talk to him in a calm manner...but 15 years of care giving to someone who maybe 85% of the time doesn't appreciate it, is a complicated task.  As mom talks slowly it seems as if she has lost her voice, or maybe she was just tired from the previous nights incidents...either way her demeanor is solemn.  She explains she never imagined it to be this way...when they got married they had so many hopes and dreams together, she said...this wasn't one of them.  She said she never visualized this happening in the beginning of their marriage.  Dez peers in the room, towel wrapped around him from just getting out of the shower. She asks us to respect dads wish to be talked to in a normal manner and remarks that last night could have been avoided if Dez could control his temper and ask her to help him.  We all agree.

Mom apologizes for our situation and dads actions. I tell her that she doesn't need to apologize for him...apologizing for him as I understand it is her taking on more of his burden.  I told her I get what she was trying to do, but we each need to take responsibility for our own actions, whether he is sick or not.  And bottom line she didn't make him do what he did/does.  I compared it to my brother shooting someone and me apologizing for what he did (just as a hypothetical example)..what kind of sense does that make; me apologizing for something he did?  She said well we are married. Maybe legally, but in reality...  (I won't go there)


I did ask dad if he was ready to shower and come in last night before I went to bed.  He told me to leave him alone. I did.

This morning I heard him on the phone with my aunt...he cried loud tears.  I also heard the shower water hitting the tiles...did he really shower? When I finally emerged from my room ready to head to an appointment, he was in the living room eating cereal with cut up bananas all his dirty clothes back n the living room floor.  I asked him how he got in the house...he said mom let him in...he lied. I asked him when his family was coming to pick him up..he tried his best to cover up the fact that no one was coming.  I asked him how come he was still here, when last night he was saying I'm lucky it wasn't day time..I said it's day time now, so why aren't you leaving...he just tries to mumble something about taking a shower and attempts to kill me with kindness.  Still frustrated I tell him to leave...he puts his bowl down, puts his shoes on and as I get in my car, begins to walk down the street...he's not going anywhere.

My aunt calls me concerned...I missed her call.  After my appointment I call her back, she says she already talked to mom.  They talked about putting him in a home.  She said he needs to be somewhere where people have the patience for him and that mentally it sounds like hes getting worse and needs help.  Shes a retired nurse.  We hang up.

For now he's sleep on the living room floor...he asks for his comfort towel from mom.  His clothes wet yet again...he doesn't want to change them, even as mom speaks to him in a very mild mannered tone.

Today dad looks smaller and a bit more frail then yesterday.

For Better or for Worse

God bless my mom.  She is the strongest woman I know!!! I meant to write this post a couple days ago, but I've slacked...after tonight though...it needs to be said.  How do you keep taking care of a man...even though sick...that goes in the room when you come in from work, who won't eat your cooking, gives you the middle finger, and calls you a jackass?!?!  How does a man and wife go from loving each other, having three kids, being married for over 30 years end up like this???  The vow of marriage for most people these days holds no sanctity...most people are divorced at least 2 maybe 3 times over, here in California...but my mother, my dear mom; is still married to and takes care of my father.  I don't know if I'd have the will...I mean it wasn't as tough the first couple years, but as time goes on it progresses and just gets to the for WORSE!!!

Tonight we all went past our boiling points...tensions rose as my brother comes home to a room reeking of a pee soaked futon with dad laying there marinating in it and his clothes.  Unwilling to shower and change, my brother had enough and threw him out of the room along with the rest of his clothes.

As I was laying in the bed with mom catching up on some needed R&R and watching Cutthroat Kitchen I hear more a ruckus from my dad and brother going at it back and fourth. There definitely was starting to be some physical fighting which I then hopped out of the bed to calm things down.  Dez was taking the cover off the futon and spraying Febreze in the air.  I asked my dad to please shower and change out of his wet clothes.  He could not focus and began cussing at me too.  He almost put his hands on me, when my mom burst out of the room.  She asked him to stop being stubborn and attempted to explain that we were only looking out for his best interest and why would he keep biting the hands that fed him. More cussing ensued, he explained that he's out of here and is going to go with his family.  I said to call them up and see who would come get him.  He started gathering his things from the hallway and placing them in the living room.  I proceeded to throw pee stained clothes and the futon cover in the washing machine. Dad got mad about that started screaming and my mom interjected...he started towards her to which she retreated to the closest room, which was mine and closed the door to where it was barely cracked...she kept trying to talk him down from behind the door to no avail.  His water bottle fell on its side, and he got mad about that...Dez then grabbed him and "escorted" him to the living room.  I had to grab Dez to get him to stop as he was heated like a lion taking his kill down with the final blow. I threw him in his room and went back into the living room to see dad putting his dirty clothes on one of the chairs.  I asked him to give me the dirty clothes because I didn't want my living room smelling like piss (excuse my french).  Of course he didn't want to give me the clothes.  He started yelling at me, saying I'm lucky to be alive, and eff bomb this and eff bomb that. I got some of the clothes to put in the laundry.  He started back after me to which Dez pushed him back and he fell over an ottoman to the ground, here comes mom out of the room again, this time calming Dez and asking him not to hit dad as we all know that he isn't all mentally there.  Dez just keeps saying I'm done, I don't care, it doesn't matter.  My dad said something to the affect of you better pray to God or it's because you don't pray to God to which Dez  yelled "it's not like you taught me."  Mom goes back in her room, Dez goes in his room and closes the door.  Dad finishes gathering his things and lays on the ground.

I throw some oxyclean in the washer and set the washer to sanitize mode. Now that things are a little more settled I ask dad again to take a shower so that the moisture from his wet clothes doesn't seep into the floors.  He goes off and says he can't wait to get effing out of here and that I'm lucky it's not daytime or he would be gone.  I said whats daytime have to do with it, go now.  He's like you're lucky to be alive, I said yes I am and so are you or where would you be living right now.  I told him to call his family now...tell them to come get you now then.  He doesn't call.  I told him to get out then if he couldn't respect my house, my rules and his own self.  He said fine...I opened the front door and he started throwing putting his stuff outside.  He's outside and I lock the door behind him!

How do we go from being worried about someone being lost and searching for them to kicking them out...complete 180 on the emotional level!! Things are irreverently crazy with our words to each other.  I start cleaning the spills from his water bottle and wet spot on the floor.  He then starts ringing the doorbell asking for his wallet.  I tell him he has his wallet and to check the pile on the porch.  He doesn't check and proceeds to pound on the door.  I tell him I'm going to call the police.  It was as if he was trying to break the door down.

Dez and mom to the rescue again. Mom asks me to open the door.  I comply, but don't let him in entirely. He wants to get his wallet, I tell him to tell Dez where it is so Dez can get it.  Dez retrieves the wallet.  Mom again with her loving nature tries to reason with dad: "don't you want to take a shower and get clean and sleep in the warm house?" "Can you just stop being stubborn and allow us to help you?"  No response...he turns his back to the door.  I shut it.

I continue cleaning.  Mom asks me what I need help with. "Nothing, just go to bed"  She has work in the early morning.  As she heads to her room she says "I'll find a place for him tomorrow, for us!"

I look out the window and dad is sitting on the bench on the porch talking on the phone.  I assume he is attempting to get a ride.  I finish swiffering the floors and wiping down the chair ottoman and fridge.  I look outside...and he's simply laying on the bench.  No ones come to his rescue.

I wanted to buy a couch...saw a nice one at the JCPenney outlet...but didn't want it to be pee stained. Lost my dog, my house smells like pee, dirty dishes where the clean ones are, food spilled on the counters and floors...the energy is one of plain and simple misery.

Human nature is a funny thing...so many things at play tonight: the need to be right, anger, hurt, ill will, resentment, resignation, but mostly compassion.  Especially from mom.  Even as I sat down to write this she comes in my room "Are you just letting him relieve some steam outside for a bit?"  I reply "He can stay outside, he has a blanket." To which she says "He's wet."  I exclaim "He could have already had on dry clothes, I can't make him change, what do you do?" "What do you do?"  She leaves the room to finally get some rest.

I don't know about you, but I'm stressed, I'm at the point right now where I feel overwhelmed.  I can't even muster the energy to cry I'm so drained from the ordeal.  ::exhale::

You never know how "lucky" you are or the luck you can create for yourself...I can only hope and pray to find a husband who loves me as unconditionally as my mom has "love" for my dad, and that I will love that man so much that there's no question that I'd return the same.  My ex and I would talk about this occasionally, "If I was in a coma, how long would you wait of me? Would you wait for me?"  I always said that if I was in a coma after a certain amount of time please remarry and be happy, I wouldn't want someone to continue to be sitting around sad waiting for me.  I guess you would never know how you would react to that situation until you were placed in it.  I don't think my mom could have predicted how she would have reacted to this situation...I'm pretty sure the answer would be different than her current outcome.

Well, that's enough out of me for one night...Take care of yourself!!! Don't end up like dad!

Time to go check on him.

XO