Dad is back in the Hospital again. I woke up at 6:30 this morning to him calling to tell me he couldn't sleep he was so short of breath and that he was headed back. At least this time he's 5 minutes down the road at an amazing facility. He's in congestive heart failure. The hospital in Alabama never prescribed him lasiks. The fluid build up was making it hard for him to breathe. I was overjoyed to hear him on the phone tonight, obviously in much better spirits as the fluid has gone down and his enzyme levels are back down. I'm just so... I'm exhausted. I'm exhausted from wanting to help him and to take care of him, but knowing it's best that I don't. That I bring him home, that I offer him meals, that I share my company with him when I can... I love my Dad. I do. But it's been a rough road between us. I can't help any more than I can, for me. For my family. I want my children, Lo (my mini me) specifically, to have a rewarding relationship with him. I want him to be there at the kids Graduations. I, selfishly, want my relationship with my Father to stay as it's been these past two years. I've never had this friendship/relationship with my Father until now. And now all I can see is that this could all come crumbling apart... because obviously I'm still 15 years old.
Can y'all tell I'm having a hard time accepting how short life really is?