The Beginning of the End?

Why do I ask myself this you may wonder? Well, Saturday I start a project in building a garage at my parents house. This garage is intended of storing everything their basement contains at the moment. Everything that will be in the way when I soon begin to finish the basement into a separate apartment for my parents. Seems that life has a funny way of throwing you a curve ball and more times than not, hits a person where it counts as they get older, their health. The victim in this matter would be my dad.

My dad learned years ago that his diabetes were affecting his kidneys. Nothing he could do would delay or reverse this. It would slowly wreak havoc on his body through the years. I watched my "superman" as I saw him as a child, grow to be a weary man he is today. Your body will fail you. If we're lucky, we'll live to an old age without problems, and die peacefully in our sleep after our work is done. Some people get the short end of the stick with tragic accidents, others, cancer. Kidney failure is almost as bad. Through the years I've watched my dad go in and out of the hospital, sometimes the ICU for massive amounts of fluid that would build up on his body and lungs. The sad part is that there's little you can do for him. I hate seeing him in pain. Even more, I hate knowing what thoughts must be running through his head. The hardest moment was one day watching him break down in tears worried that he would be a burden on our family. No matter how much reassurance you can give someone that its okay, that you'll fight through this together, deep down I know his fear resides. I can see it in his stumbles, I can see it in his struggles getting up from a chair, or climbing stairs. I know those doubts linger and play games with his spirit. He's passed the torch on to me to be the man of the family, even if he didn't want to let go of the helm.

I'm not sure how many years he has left on this earth. I hope he has many. I hope in his mind, he wishes for many more. While his kidneys are failing him, he still has time. He hasn't started dialysis yet. For anyone unfamiliar to dialysis, he would be required to go to the hospital three times a week, and have his blood cleaned by a machine for six hours at a time. That's the basic explanation. The pain, trouble, and depletion of energy are kindly left out of the story. At this time, he goes to the doctor ever three weeks to have his blood checked in order to learn what his percentage his kidneys are working. Most times he is required to have a shot which boosts his creactin levels in his blood, to help with the cleansing and to postpone dialysis for as long as possible. This and iron infusions are essential in buying my dad more time before he has to start that awful process of dialysis.

Another toll I see it taking is on my mother. I can see her nerves stretched thin. I can see the agony in her eyes, for she knows if she were to crack, all hope would be lost. My parents have been married for over forty years. Of my twenty-eight living with and around them (I was adopted at the age of two) I've never witnessed them fight or overheard an argument. That's not saying it didn't happen, they just never let me witness it. They remind me of the old time shows like Leave It To Beaver in a sense because they seem like they're from a much different era, one where divorce and today's problems with the foundation of marriage never touched. They rarely go anywhere without the other and when watching them from afar, they look as one instead of two separate beings. My mother is weary of doctors, weary of new medicines prescribed to my dad, for she is very protective of him, his health, and their precious time they have left together. I'm very fortunate to have parents like them to base my ideals on what marriage should be like and how my actions should be if I should find myself married one day.

This brings me to something that I always dwelled on. What if one or both of my parents pass before I am married and have kids. I hate to think of that. I feel like a failure in some way being thirty and not married. I envisioned being married and having kids so my parents would have grandchildren to spoil. I get the kick out of the idea of seeing my child or children sitting in their grandparents' laps, listening to stories, talking, and just bringing smiles to my parents' faces. I feel as though I'm running out of time for this but hang onto the words that I've heard them say often, "love is not to be rushed, when you find the right one, you will know." What happens if I don't know when I find it? What happens if I let it slip away before realizing it? How did they know? After all, my father was from California and my mother Alabama. What's the chances of that? They met when my father was helping a friend move from California to Tennessee. After helping, he stayed around for a few months helping with their business and happened to be in Birmingham, Alabama. He and his friend attended a race at the old Birmingham International Speedway, where the old Birmingham Fair was located. It is there where my mother and three sisters were out with my uncle, about the only time they could go out under his watchful eye. My dad approached her and after sneaking away for a few dates over the next couple of months my dad returned to California. After a few months and many phone calls, he came back for my mother, ran away together, and got married in California. Over forty years later, still humming along...

Back to the title of this entry. I ask this question not of my dad's life, for I know it's in God's hands, not mine. I will stand by his side until the end, whenever that may be. He's my father, my hero, my best friend. We're alot alike, he and I. We're both quite, independent, try to be humorous, hard headed....the list goes on. I ask the question in regards of moving back home. Out of all this I ask because of my own selfishness. Moving back home....it's a lot to handle. I love my parents but can I live with them again? Well, it wont be actually living with them but above them. I'm finishing their basement into an apartment for them and taking over the rest of the house. My fathers health has greatly impacted his ability to climb stairs and even with a ramp on the back deck of the house, its still trouble for him to walk the long length of it now, even more so later. This idea was posed to me when I started looking into apartments to rent. My mother posed it too me first and gave me the spill about the house being mine someday anyway. At first I didn't want to hear it but after a few more proposals from my mother and father I thought to myself, am I being selfish here? After all, they fought hard to adopt me, made sure I had everything I ever wanted, my dreams became their dreams...

So I've decided to pull the trigger. Due to my recent breakup I have nobody else to consider. The only one's to consider are my parents and myself. I put them, especially with the circumstances, above myself. That's not to say that ground rules haven't been established and that heavy, heavy insulation wont be used in between floors so I can't hear them, they can't hear me. I like my sense of privacy, although I have nothing to hide, I like my quite moments, my solitude at times. Its not the living there that will bother me. Its the perception from others, mainly the opposite sex that scare me. What would they think about it? Will they hear this fact and run away? Will they think that since I live under the same roof as my family, I must be a "titty baby," that I'm not secure enough to get something of my own? All these misconceptions, will I have time to explain? How hard will it be to meet my "one and only?" How would I break this to her? Would she be accepting of the fact or would I have to move back out and meet her in the middle? I had this issue in the back of my mind with my last relationship. She didn't want to live in Chelsea because of the traffic on Hwy 280 and in a way I didn't want to be far from home. Part of me liked my short drive to work but the other part was seeing my parents almost daily and watching them struggle with the small things in life like trying to change a light bulb just out of their reach or moving something that was heavy to them but nothing to me.

I want to be there for them as they get older. If I'm judged for this by someone, to hell with them. If they wouldn't do it for their own parents, then maybe they should've been a miscarriage. We owe the people of our lives that we love more than that, more of ourselves. I've taken away more than I can ever give back, not in money value, but I intend to balance the scales as much as I can. I love my parents and I'll cherish what little time I have left in this world with them. How can that be so wrong? So when I ask if by moving back home is the beginning of the end, the end to my dating life, I think it may slow it down with the wrong kind but help find the right one...I hope.

Ok, I feel a little guilty about the last post...

So after a little time I've come back to my last post and decided I feel guilty about some of the questions for the big man above. Why is that? It seems that with the more time I spend coming back to religion, the more guilt I feel for saying the things that often cross my mind. I'm new to this. I'm trying to gain understanding but at the same time I don't want to feel like a headcase, always second guessing my words or thoughts. Is that the dilemma we face, the struggle between right and wrong? Oh its just too much to think about at times. I live my life relatively sin free aside from a little lusting now and then. After all, I am a male. I keep it in check. We can't all be perfect you know? I think the big man will let my troubled mind slip from time to time. I guess I'll continue my journey with this new area of my life while walking the tightrope with my own self identity but you can always count on me saying what is on my mind, both right and wrong. Its the only way to walk in the light and be seen for who you are.

Loud Pipes Save Lives

I was driving down the road today and my mind flashed back to an accident that I drove by last week. It was then that I saw countless police cars sitting in the median, along with all the dumbass rubbernecks slowing down to get a peek. As I inched closer, I myself, transformed into one of those said rubbernecks because lying in the middle of Hwy 280 was a man, motionless, with a motorcycle fifty foot away. What struck me as odd is that the firetruck had just arrived on scene but the police officers were huddled up a good twenty to thirty feet away from the man. The man was alone. Was he alive? Was he dead? I looked closer to see if I could see breathing but couldn't tell. There was no blood pooled around the man. He just layed there, motionless, and in a pose that a ragdoll might resemble like some snotty nose kid dropped on the playground and left while playing. There he was, laying face up. His helmet tilted forward over his eyes and brow like he was just trying to take a nap and block the light from his eyelids.

Upon further said rubbernecking, I discovered two old ladies standing beside their car, a police officer talking to them. My very first thought was those bitches don't need to be driving. A knee jerk reaction but damn, after a certain age, shouldn't we all be tested occasionally? They had obviously pulled out in front of the coming motorcycle. What were those last few seconds like for that guy? He knew he was fucked. I didn't see any tire marks to indicate he had hammered down on the brakes. The shear terror of those few seconds right before impact and flying through the air...damn. Will it haunt the old ladies for the rest of their remaining lives? Will they feel remorse or with all the confusion will they know what actually happened and know the man's fate?

Speaking of fate, why do we identify everything that happens to us with a four letter word named fate? Fate is defined by: that which is inevitably predetermined; destiny. WTF, is that?! Predetermined, destiny? So his "fate" was that he was going to get up in the morning and possibly die by running into the side of a car driven by two old ladies that never saw his motorcycle coming? It was destiny that he die this way? Destiny? I don't know about you but when it comes to me the only destiny that I want associated with my death would A. die while trying to accomplish the impossible, B. die while in my sleep at a ripe old age, or for the adolescent in me C. die while engaged in wild relations with a woman/women. Destiny is not to die riding a Honda, mind you, down Hwy 280 and go for a short flight.

Was he still alive? Did he die on impact? Was he religious and had time to ask for forgiveness? Did he curse the sky? If alive but maybe in shock so that pain isn't a factor, what runs through your head at a moment like that? Did he open his eyes just to see the inside of his helmet? Thats gotta be a shitty view, the inside of a sweaty helmet. At least if I was gonna die, I'd like to spy out a few shapes in the clouds before I kicked it. Oh, over there....it's a rabbit....it's a shark...it's a........Speaking of fate, if there is truly a God, and I struggle with this one from time to time, is the saying "everything happens for a reason" his saying? You think maybe he's pissed because somebody assigned him the copyright to a statement that maybe Adam was saying in the Garden of Eden to make Eve feel better about eating that damn apple? If there is a God and we're given free will then doesn't the phrase "shit happens" apply to our untimely demise since we're free to run around doing anything that gets our rocks off? I can't see a scroll with my name and exact time of death written for the future to reveal. That doesn't make sense. "God has a plan" I think might be a cop out for people who need an explanation. God doesn't plan on little children to get cancer, to suffer, to die at the hands of abuse. There is no plan for unjust homicide, rape, and mutilation. Are we not taught that our God is the God of mercy? What was the plan for the man laying like a ragdoll, alone, in the middle of the street? I know religion is paved with good intentions. At times though I see it as a crutch to explain life's all too often miseries. Is God a casual observer? I sure hope not but I would like to one day know the reasoning behind some of this all.

I've seen the bumperstickers on peoples cars, "Loud Pipes Save Lives." I wonder in this case if loud pipes would've made a difference being that it was two old ladies in the car? I wonder about the man's fate and if today he is dead or alive? Guess I'll never know. I said a silent prayer for him anyway. The first question might be pointless though, afterall, he was riding a Honda.

And here I breathe new life...

I was inspired, if you will, by a friend to write my own blog. My writing could never be compared to hers but as the saying goes "different strokes for different folks." With this I'm going to attempt to remove the filter, to uncensor my thoughts, my views, my emotions, and my ego. I'll strip myself to bare bone at times as well as others, not in an attempt to hurt, only to relate.

"The possibility of physical and mental collapse is now very real. No sympathy for the Devil, keep that in mind. Buy the ticket, take the ride. "