Its been a funny old week. Last Sunday I called my Dad to go through the usual happy fathers day routine only to find my call unanswered. Odd but not unheard of, I simply thought I'll call him latter in the week. As the week went on the calls remained unanswered, I slowly grew more anxious. By the weekend I had slipped in to full on prophet of doom mode and the poor old boy was stone cold and in the ground.
Anyway, back in the real world I found out today (from his local pub landlady) that he is in fact quite poorly and has been in hospital for the last three weeks. A life time of hard drinking and smoking has for-sure left its mark. I talked to a nurse today who told me that although he seems to have improved slightly, he won't be able go back to independent living and now needs 24 hour nursing home care.
As I sit here writing I notice The Sweeney on TV. I well remember as a small boy I would listen for the intro and as soon as I heard it, I would pad off to the loo stopping to poke my head in the front room and tell my Dad what I was doing. Without fail he would gesture me in and I would sit and watch it with him. I liked that, I liked that alot.
Over the years our relationship has had it's ups and downs. For a long time through the dark times of my drinking and using we never spoke. Thankfully today that's not the case. A few years ago as a result of the amends process I was able to rebuild my relationship with my Dad. Taking not only me, but also my wife and Son Jack to spend time with him.
So what now? When I spoke to him this morning he simply said "I'll call you when I get better". The truth is, I'm not sure he will get better. So what I'll do is tomorrow I'll get in the car and go up to see him in Gloucester. I'll make sure that he knows I'm with him and that I love him very much. Then I'll see what happens, and God willing deal with it.