The Final Straw...

My friend, Ron Travis, lost his dad this weekend. I lost mine this morning...though not in the same way. Ron's dad died. Mine chose an alcoholic's life and drunken binges over a relationship with a loving family. Make no mistake, Ronnie and I love him dearly. He is the only remaining member of my birth family...my connection to little Carolyn Goines. But I don't like or respect the man who has been on a drunken binge for the last week in his trailer behind my home. This same man who has done this to me on three other occasions and each time promised it will never happen again. Enough.

I don't like issuing ultimatums and in fact, did not tell him he had to move. He said, "I'm gonna move my trailer." I said, "That's fine. Your choices are to either QUIT DRINKING PERIOD or move. When you do, know that you are choosing alcohol over a relationship with your daughter." We have offered him help, I have cooked his meals, I have literally washed shit out of his underwear because when he drinks he loses control of his bowels, I have done his laundry, his shopping, everything. I have practically been a surrogate wife. I have been the caregiver of a child. I'm not asking for a pat on the back. I am doing what I have WANTED to do...what I feel is every child's obligation to a sick or aging parent. Daddy, on the other hand, feels that it is his right to ignore us completely and treat us to lies and disrespect when he is drinking. This time, to keep him from sneaking in the house while we are gone in an effort to avoid us, we disconnected the power to the garage door. He doesn't have a key to the house and he can't lift the door. We put the code on the door specifically for him to have access to the house whenever he wanted it. He used it as a method to avoid us when he knew that we would know he had been drinking. As long as we can't "prove" it he feels like he can lie his way around anything. Daddy started drinking last Thursday night. Today is Tuesday. During that time he snuck in the house for a shower on Friday afternoon but his behavior gave him away and I asked him about it over the phone on Friday. He denied drinking, though I knew differently. We were home most of the day Saturday...but even while gone he still had access. We were home all day Sunday but he couldn't come in because he was passed out drunk...and we were home. He tried to come in Monday night while we were gone but by then we had disconnected the power. This morning he had the nerve to stand in my kitchen and tell me that he hadn't eaten in three days because we locked him out of the house and he couldn't get to his food or medicine. I told him he was a liar. He hadn't eaten in three days because he had been passed out drunk. When we told him the timeframe on disconnecting the power he didn't have any comments. Yet, he will tell his girlfriend, my cousin, and anyone else who will listen that we made him move and that we locked him out and he couldn't get to his food or medicine for three days. I know he will. I am making some preemptive phone calls today.

I can't do it anymore. I feel like a hypocrite. My brother, Bob, was an alcoholic. There is a long line of them in the Goines family. I watched my brother in his last months become a debilitated old man. I watch him turn golden yellow a week before his death when his liver stopped. I watched him his last three days after his stroke and when he struggled for every breath he took. I was forced to make the decision to remove him from the ventilator. I was forced to make the decision to move him from ICU where he was taking up a bed for a patient who had a chance at recovery. We moved him to a quiet room at the very end of a hall and sat with him his last ten hours as we watched his breathing get slower and slower and finally just stop. I wondered at the time why Daddy wasn't there EVERY day, like I was. I wondered why he didn't drop everything and rush to the hospital when I called him and told him that Bob was having hallucinations and was fearful that Daddy was being hurt by some men that were chasing them. I wondered but I didn't press. Now I know. Daddy was angry at Bob. He told any and all about the effects of Bob's drinking and disparaged Bob for being an alcoholic. All the time Daddy was sleeping with a bottle of whiskey by his bed and would wake during the night and take sips. It's a pot and kettle thing. When Bob died, my heart broke into a million pieces because it was all so unnecessary. It was...stupid. It was useless. It was futile...and I was impotent...unable to do anything to "fix" the problem. I am, by nature, a fixer. I couldn't fix Bob, and I can't fix my dad. I can't fix it that a relationship with me, Ronnie, Kristin, Scott, Ryan, Richard, Trenton and Carter isn't enough. I can't fix it that a relationship with Glen and Carlene, my BIL and SIL isn't enough though they have adopted him as if he was their dad. I can't fix it that I have always come in last in the Bob and Carolyn race. He wants to die. He wants to drink himself to death. He wants to "go be with Mom and Bob." He does not care what it is doing to me, though he says it does. I am in the way.

No, this is not a pity party. I am not asking for understanding. I am not asking for any taking of sides. I am not asking for anything, I don't guess...maybe prayers for strength? I am just venting and reasoning things out in my head while my heart shatters. I want my Daddy. I don't want Luther Goines, the man who refuses to love me. I want my Daddy, though it seems he doesn't want me.

Why is it that we want most the things which we cannot have? Riddle me that, Batman, because I sure as hell don't understand. And I'm hurt. And I'm mad. And I just want to wrap myself in a blanket and go to bed and sleep for a thousand years...except there are people I love that and I could never in a million years do that to...because I know what it feels like to be shut out. And I am done with this. I will do what must be done and manage the guilt later...I hope.