damik's Diaryland Diary

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Relitively Unscathed

Bittersweet.
I know just what that is. This part of the journey. We pulled in last night. By the light of night, everything looked the same. The house I spent my summers growing up in. The stairs on the side, the little strip of lawn. My Opa told us to sleep in the master bedroom, he no longer slept there he moved to my father's old room. He couldn't stay in the bed he shared with my Oma. This morning I noticed other differences, too. The decals were still there decorating the bathroom, but it was dingy, dirty with neglect. He doesn't eat at home at all, I don't think he cooks for himself at all. And the pictures, pictures everywhere. He misses her so much on every surface there are stacks of pictures of my Oma. He seems so lonely.
I'm selfish, I don't know if I can take it, it hurts so much to see him hurting, so alone. So what do I do? I want to run away.
And he may be fading, he's more forgetfull then I ever knew him to be. Repeating things that he's said, doing tasks over again that he'd just done.
Old age is so unfair.

10:36 p.m. - 12-27-02
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