Daddy Doesn't Live Here Anymore...

"My father moved out of the house yesterday. It's odd to see his room empty. It's odd to not
hear his keys hanging from his belt loop and jingle as he walks down the hall. I'd gotten use to him being here. I keep trying to tell myself that this is great because now I'll have an extra room to do something with. Maybe I'll set it up as a guest bedroom. Maybe I'll use it to put my treadmill and total gym in so I have an exercise room. Maybe hubby can use it as an office of his own. I keep telling myself that this is what would make Daddy happy and that maybe Jose and I will stop fighting now because of the things he does."

My buddy Raven has been on a tear lately, culminating in the entry from which I extracted the quote above. I don't know why, but it pushed my buttons and I fired off a multi-paragraphed rant of my own in her comments. Now I feel the ass. And in the land of AOL Journals, once you've committed to clicking the send button, there's no taking back the comment. So sorry, kiddo. Must have been low blood sugar, or just having one of "those days." Here's what I said, in all my assholeishness:

Your dad and I have been in the same boat. Booze, butts and women. Oh, and the bypass thingie in 2000, too. So I see this from his perspective. It's a difficult adjustment, but I know you'll be able to make it with a little time. Until then, put your employee discount to good use and buy him some smoke detectors (both radiation-reactive and photoelectric types) and install them for him in his new digs. "Just a house-warming present, Daddy. Because I love you," should do the trick. And then RESPECT his space. Daddys like to be loved, not nagged. A gentle query about what he's eaten is acceptable. Going into Sherlock Holmes mode and checking his garbage pail isn't -- unless maybe you empty the damn thing at the same time. Yes he knows that beer, booze and butts are not good for him. Despite your desire to have him around until 2121, he's obviously made a choice that will get him a ticket to ride much sooner. Respect the fact that he is an adult and may choose to do what he wants to until such time as dementia becomes so burdensome that he must be institutionalized. Then you can intervene, but not until. And if he chooses to hasten his shuffle off this mortal coil, again I urge you to respect that decision. Despite both my wife and I having worked with geriatrics, there's no way on this little green earth that either of us chooses to go to a nursing home. The sweet, cold barrel of a gun is far preferable to the treatment available now in nursing homes. I shudder, truly, to think about how very, very awful it will be in another 10 or 15 years when my grandchildrens' generation is providing the care. So, if we choose to "off" ourselves rather than face life in a "home" you best grow some compassion and understanding and respect the decision. Otherwise, you are setting yourself up for a lifetime of disappoint[ment] and regrets where none are due."

There is nothing in it I don't believe. It's just she didn't need my load of crap dumped on her plate today. THAT is why I am contrite. And that's why I proclaim my stupidity for all to see.