As some of you might know from the past few months ago when I posted about it; my mom has been transferred to a carehome, since she’s not able to live at home anymore. The care she needs is too intensive to provide here with all the therapies she has and as time passes and my dad and she visit doctors, there have been a few things gotten more clearly what she might or might not have. But a lot of her issues on why she initially got put in said home have little to do with the new results; but as it is, they found she might have a degenerative muscle disease… and dementia will set in eventually, that’s just a matter of time, she’s already regressed to speech through a speechcomputer making her sound more like Stephen Hawking… and that’s just the tip of the iceberg… I could probably list another 15 other issues, but I’m not here to blog a medical record.
I’m actually here to talk about something else, which has to do with this situation, but is a different perspective.
While I’m not overly caring about my mom; I mean, I visit once a week or so, my dad visits twice, daily. I’ve come to realize a lot about myself since living with just my dad.
Since my mom lives there, about 3 months now, a lot changed in this house. A lot of practical matters but my dad also took down a lot of the decorations my mom had, making it more like his house instead. Or perhaps more our house. Since my mom moved out, I’ve gotten to be a bit more social with my dad and it’s really where I probably was more like the 3rd wheel on the cart. Well, granted, my dad married my mom and chose to live with her… I came along as their little happy accident I suppose, but still, it’s mostly them 2 and me. Now it’s more like I actually have conversations with my dad; perhaps because he feels somewhat lonely, needs to let off some steam for having to wheel my mom around in a wheelchair to the hospital or just whatever is on his mind. In a sense, he’s like that weird friend I always knew but never considered a friend of sorts until recently.
It’s so weird, since in the past 30-ish years, I didn’t even know my dad didn’t like to eat fish that much… it’s those little things I’m just finding out, because these things actually come up as issues when we discuss what’s for dinner and who is going to cook something up.
The other side of him feels a lot more unstructured, even less than before. Granted, my dad is a bit of a random guy, especially after he had a stroke over a decade ago; he got a bit weirder and as a result I didn’t have as much arguments with him anymore since, but I’ve always found my dad a bit of a nihilist, perhaps that’s where that overall demeanor of mine stems from at times… but add that in with a lack of structure even on his part; our house is pretty much 2 people living 2 separate lives, cooking dinner when they want to, doing whatever they want, sleeping during the day when it suits them and every once in a while, we run into each other and it’s like “hey man.. what’s up? I’m about to make steak and some salad, you want some as well?”. It’s like 2 people running into each other in the wilderness and because they run into each other might just as well enjoy each other’s company over dinner.
I’ve also come to a realization that I know I don’t want to share my house with anyone else in the future. My dad, that’s cool… since he doesn’t get on my case, he does his thing, I do mine… and we pretty much share a house because it’s cheap and practical. I don’t even have a desire for more than say… a 30 square foot room and share bathroom/kitchen and some extra storage and perhaps a shed to use equipment. It’s pretty much what a lot of people would consider “how a student would live”… that’s pretty much all I need and want. But because of this, I don’t see how this would work out if I actively would huddle up with someone and have to deal with having a living room, a hallway maybe even a little dining room of sorts and a bedroom… as it is, I live in my bedroom with a computer, a tv, a bed, a comfy chair, my instruments and usually end up preparing a meal and eating it in my room; unless those moments where I have dinner with my dad, and I’ll sit at the dining table with him…
I mean, I’ve been looking at my friend, who is married and I honestly feel that’s the last thing I want; that cozy living room thing where I “must” hang on the couch with my partner. I think by now I’ve been living in this little compartmentalized area too much to even consider living in a “normal” setting anymore.
I’m actually here to talk about something else, which has to do with this situation, but is a different perspective.
While I’m not overly caring about my mom; I mean, I visit once a week or so, my dad visits twice, daily. I’ve come to realize a lot about myself since living with just my dad.
Since my mom lives there, about 3 months now, a lot changed in this house. A lot of practical matters but my dad also took down a lot of the decorations my mom had, making it more like his house instead. Or perhaps more our house. Since my mom moved out, I’ve gotten to be a bit more social with my dad and it’s really where I probably was more like the 3rd wheel on the cart. Well, granted, my dad married my mom and chose to live with her… I came along as their little happy accident I suppose, but still, it’s mostly them 2 and me. Now it’s more like I actually have conversations with my dad; perhaps because he feels somewhat lonely, needs to let off some steam for having to wheel my mom around in a wheelchair to the hospital or just whatever is on his mind. In a sense, he’s like that weird friend I always knew but never considered a friend of sorts until recently.
It’s so weird, since in the past 30-ish years, I didn’t even know my dad didn’t like to eat fish that much… it’s those little things I’m just finding out, because these things actually come up as issues when we discuss what’s for dinner and who is going to cook something up.
The other side of him feels a lot more unstructured, even less than before. Granted, my dad is a bit of a random guy, especially after he had a stroke over a decade ago; he got a bit weirder and as a result I didn’t have as much arguments with him anymore since, but I’ve always found my dad a bit of a nihilist, perhaps that’s where that overall demeanor of mine stems from at times… but add that in with a lack of structure even on his part; our house is pretty much 2 people living 2 separate lives, cooking dinner when they want to, doing whatever they want, sleeping during the day when it suits them and every once in a while, we run into each other and it’s like “hey man.. what’s up? I’m about to make steak and some salad, you want some as well?”. It’s like 2 people running into each other in the wilderness and because they run into each other might just as well enjoy each other’s company over dinner.
I’ve also come to a realization that I know I don’t want to share my house with anyone else in the future. My dad, that’s cool… since he doesn’t get on my case, he does his thing, I do mine… and we pretty much share a house because it’s cheap and practical. I don’t even have a desire for more than say… a 30 square foot room and share bathroom/kitchen and some extra storage and perhaps a shed to use equipment. It’s pretty much what a lot of people would consider “how a student would live”… that’s pretty much all I need and want. But because of this, I don’t see how this would work out if I actively would huddle up with someone and have to deal with having a living room, a hallway maybe even a little dining room of sorts and a bedroom… as it is, I live in my bedroom with a computer, a tv, a bed, a comfy chair, my instruments and usually end up preparing a meal and eating it in my room; unless those moments where I have dinner with my dad, and I’ll sit at the dining table with him…
I mean, I’ve been looking at my friend, who is married and I honestly feel that’s the last thing I want; that cozy living room thing where I “must” hang on the couch with my partner. I think by now I’ve been living in this little compartmentalized area too much to even consider living in a “normal” setting anymore.
