Looking In

The night that my mom took my dad to the hospital replays in my head all the time. You see, that night I sat at the table with my mom, my dad was on the porch smoking. I remember playing with his knife and I pointed at him with the tip of the knife. I was teasing him. He waved at me and I laughed telling my mom that my dad needed more attention then a pregnant woman.

Now looking back at that, I wonder if my dad was waving bye to me. I wonder if he knew at that moment that our lives were about to be destroyed.

I also wonder if my dad is still on the outside looking in. I wonder if my dad is watching his family while we go through this. I wonder if he is hurting for us. I know he wouldn’t have left us if he didn’t have to, if he didn’t have something much more important to do. But I wonder if he is looking in or down at us, watching as we work through our suffering.

The more I think about it, the more I think that maybe I am the one on the outside looking in. Maybe I am peeking through a window at a world that no longer makes sense. I was window shopping for a new life and I was conned into picking a life that wasn’t as advertised.

There are other things about my dads last week with us. Things that happened that make me wonder if maybe…just maybe, if I had a time machine I could go back and save him and save my family the heartache we are going through right now.

The day before my dad went to the hospital his truck died. My mom text me saying “Your daddy’s truck died.” His truck is still sitting in the yard, broken down, needing a new water pump (or so my dad thought.) My parents were supposed to go the next day (the day after he went to the hospital) to get the new part so he could fix his truck.

Maybe a few days before, I posted on Facebook that now that we had a nice new home I thought maybe I needed a new life to go along with it. It was my way of saying I was looking for a new job…but I got a new life alright. A new life that I didn’t expect.

He worked so hard to get us into the home we are in. He was also super quick to get things into the house, things he knew we needed. It was like he was trying to rush us to get everything in and unpacked.

My dad also had more back pain the last week. He has been living with pain for something close to 20 years because he got hurt at work and was disabled. So no one thought it was weird, just that he had been working himself too hard. I wish we would have stopped and thought about it. He died of pancreatitis. Symptoms of that is back pain…back pain. Something my dad had lived with for a very long time. Something that didn’t strike any of us as odd when it got worse because it was normal.

See, this isn’t the first time that our norm has changed. Before my dad became disabled life was good. We had a home. My dad would get out in the yard and play with me and my brother. We lost part of my dad when he got hurt because he couldn’t do all that stuff anymore. Not like he used to. But we still loved my dad. We still loved him and stuck with him even when we were homeless.

It was good for me because where we had lived I had slipped into a really bad depression that was going downhill fast. So fast that I was thinking about killing myself. When my dad got hurt we had to move away and moving away took me away from the people that picked on me. Moving away took me away from all the dark things that made me want to hurt myself. I sometimes blamed myself for my dad getting hurt, because someone knew I needed to get away…and that was the way we had to go.

Life doesn’t make sense! It doesn’t make sense and it’s not fair. Why can’t it be fair? Why can’t the man upstairs let people live long and happy lives? So little would have to change for life to be fair. But I guess everyone has a different way of deciding what is fair.

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