Some Hope

Sunday, at my Grandmother's behest, I set out to find my lost, drunken father. Someone needed to tell him that his mother was dying, and that someone was me.

He wasn't hard to find, but he was almost impossible for me to look at. I'll spare the details, but he is in a very bad way. I hardly recognized him.

Our talk- my monologue, rather- was basically thus: "Come home now and we will find help for you. If you do not quit, your mother will outlive you , and she is dying very soon. Every day you spend missing and drunk costs your mother a day of her life because the worry is killing her- come home now and you will be able to say goodbye to her. If you don't want to quit, stay where you are because my brother and I are going to be busy with arrangements and we can't deal with your drunken bullshit while do the things that we have to do. It's up to you."

He told me to leave and I was certain that he was going to take his life as soon as I left.

I just got off the phone with my Grandmother. Her tests are not good at all- days, perhaps a few weeks...her willpower is amazing , she will probably live longer than expected- she already has, really.

She had good news, though. My father came home yesterday. He actually listened to what I said and he decided to come home. Our family Pastor is talking with him this evening about treatment options and what can be done. He will certainly need to de-tox in hospital, as alcoholic withdrawal can kill you. It almost killed me, you know.

It's still up to him, and he's blown every chance so far, but he did come home.

He cared enough to come home, so perhaps he will get help. I don't know what to expect - I suppose I should not have any expectations at all- but the fact that he came home means that there is still some part of him that wants to live.

I don't know what is to happen, but there is still some hope, and that is a good thing.