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4 Years on


silverkitties

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silverkitties

It's been four years, two months, and 21 days since my mom passed away from bile duct cancer--and what a wild ride it has been. I'm happy to report to those of you who remember me that I finally completed the book I was working on: one that took some 5 years in the making. Grief, depression, and constant struggles with a nutjob father did not kill me after all.

There's no doubt that the first year was by far my most difficult: as someone who has a habit of reminiscing over the past, I couldn't help but remember everything that was happening in 2014 on a daily basis. Not to mention that there would be new triggers every day. Some days would remind me of days I had gone to visit mom in the hospital. Looking at a lipstick or a sweater would sometimes remind me of a particular visit.Shoveling snow would remind me of the days I had shoveled snow before her stroke in April of that year....I can still remember the cloudy day I shoveled snow, crying as I did so because I knew when I returned, there would be no mom to fix a hot chocolate for me or chat.  Sometimes a visit from one of my dad's friends would remind me of the days before she passed when he was picking us up from the hospital.

Even as I worked on my book and various writing projects,I could not get away completely from my grief. Working on the introduction brought back memories of the fall and winter before her stroke;sometimes, I would think of those weeks which she and my dad spent in Taiwan--and which strangely enough made me depressed for two weeks, as if I knew that something horrible would happen.(It turned out that her cancer probably started at that time, according to the docs.) At other times, I would think of the day I had submitted that chapter to the editors in  early March, and feeling relieved. But at all times, I could almost remember the places where I had done my readings....a certain passage would bring me back to my mother's side at the hospital right after she was diagnosed with cancer. Another would bring me back to the day we brought mom home--when we still had hope that she would recover.

I can still remember how I dreaded the anniversary of her passing when late September rolled around--and how I recorded right here the two weeks preceding her death, from what was to be her final departure from our house to the hospital to her second, fatal stroke, and finally her death on October 4.  Sunday, Oct. 4 2015 was very different from Saturday, Oct. 14, 2014: Sunday was a clear, beautiful day. I actually thought I was doing well until the late afternoon when I was cleaning the cat box. And all of a sudden, I was hit with memories of other bright sunny Sundays, when mom was still around...and I lost it. Never again would I enjoy a day out with mom at the local Walgreens or the grocery. Never again would we return home for pizza from the mall. And as I looked at the couch where I gave her her evening shots, I couldn't help but think that I would never hear her thank me.  By the time I was putting the chicken in the rice cooker to prepare her favorite chicken soup I was all red and puffy from crying. I dare say that there were so many tears in that soup that I didn't need to add salt.

But then came a new stage in my grief--a better one I dare say. For the most part, whenever I had a dream about mom, I would always cry afterwards, knowing it was a dream. But one morning I woke up, almost laughing because I dreamt that I was shopping with mom. I instinctively knew that if I told her, she would laugh, saying that we did way too much shopping. It wa then that I began to feel that I was finally coming to terms with her death.

Not that I never felt depressed after the dream. I had and still have days when I miss her terribly: usually when things are going badly--for instance, when my father is more difficult than usual. And believe me, there were--and are--many such days. I still get hit badly on holidays--particularly this Thanksgiving and Xmas. Maybe it's because I had just submitted my book to the editor and no longer had a focus: over the past years, I could easily tell myself, "go work on your book for mom." But with the book gone, I found myself thinking increasingly about her--sometimes contrasting everything now to  the time in November and December 2013 when I had just begun work on the book and mom was still around. How long ago it seemed--and yet how fresh and raw too.  Then when my father was sent to the wrong hospital--the one where my mom died--I was faced with all the memories of 2014. Going down the hallways made me think back to my mom's last days, particularly since my dad's room was in the same complex but on a different floor. I did all I could to prevent myself from bursting into tears until I reached his room.  Weeks later, I had a disturbing dream when I thought I was alone in a public bathroom on a hill. It was pitch black all around and I was frightened. In my dream, I called mom to pick me up because I was alone and scared....and when she arrived to pick me up, I woke up. Where is this place, I wondered?  When I returned home that night after viisting my dad, it suddenly hit me that this dark place was none other than my own house which stands on a hill.  I guess there is so much uncertainty in my life that I had this quasi nightmare.

And now, here I am having had lunch with my dad at his rehab facility. As I listened to the Xmas songs, especially "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas," it again took all of my strength not to cry as I saw so many happy families at rehab....everyone had a mother present. I could only think of the mournful original version of the song, as sung in Meet me in St. Louis by Judy Garland:

Have yourself a merry little Christmas
It may be your last
Next year we may all be living in the past
Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Pop that champagne cork
Next year we may all be living in New York
No good times like the olden days
Happy golden days of yore
Faithful friends who were dear to us
Will be near to us no more
But at least we all will be together
If the Lord allows
From now on, we'll have to muddle through somehow
So have yourself a merry little Christmas now

Here I was,  stuck with a dad with near-full blown dementia, demanding more food. How much I wished to hear mom's wit and laughter. How I missed hearing her comforting voice. Returning home was no less bittersweet as I rode down the street where my mom and I passed through so many times.

So when will it all end? I don't know. Things do get better, but heartbreak is never too far off either. There are days when I feel good, particularly when I am embarking on a new project that I am excited about. And far from feeling unhappy when I dream about her, I feel cheered...it's as if feeling I still have her by my side. Yet, there are days when nostalgia gives me a real beating...sometimes it's when I 'm looking out at the stars and remembering the night when I waited for her to return home from Taiwan. Or when the hazy skies remind me of the time when I wondered to myself if she was ever going to recover. Sometimes  I begin to cry upon hearing songs from my childhood. Listening to "Climb Every mountain" or "Edelweiss" can turn me into a blubbering mess just as they did when I was 3: Perhaps it's simply the sheer power of the voices--but perhaps also bittersweet sadness at having lost the happiness I enjoyed as a child when I listened to the Sound of Music every afternoon...now there's no one to comfort me. Sometimes, it's songs I heard I associate with my mom's various hospital and rehab stays--Diana Ross' "Ain't No Mountain High enough" now has a new significance for me after having heard it the day we went to place her in rehab. Yes, memories are hard to escape. 

I realize none of this is very comforting. Yet, there is one thought that never fails to lift me ever so much. That I had a parent who loved me. Who eased my troubles and encouraged me from beginning to end. It was she who taught me how to persist and go on. And I am grateful for that lesson.

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Congratulations, Silver, on  completing your book!  Time to break out the champagne!  I will toast your success when I drink my mandarin mimosas this evening (by myself).  Ernesto is still here but he's a bigger Grinch this year than he has ever been.  He always ruins my holidays.   Thank God for his kids though who sent me over some tamales and pozole.

The sad song "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" also resonates with me as all my happy Christmas memories are in the past.  In the four years since my dad's death on December 27, 2014, not a single Christmas can compare with the joy of having him with me.  

I'm also grateful that I had one parent who loved me and protected me from the harshness of a lonely life as best he could.  I like to think I spared him from loneliness, too.  

I can't even go to church because it makes me feel even lonelier to see all the happy families at mass.   Almost all of my closest relatives have either died or moved out of San Francisco, because it's too expensive to live here and more crime-ridden than ever.  But I still want to live here because I love my hometown as did my dad.  Haven't listed my home for sale yet but for sure this coming spring.  

Thank you for sharing your eloquent reflections on life with your wonderful mom.  

Wishing you the best in 2019.

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Hello Silverkitties and MissionBlue,
Silverkitties, thank-you for returning and sharing your story with us. You sound more at peace now.
It's been 1.25years since I lost my mother and over 5 years since my father passed on. I have good days and bad days. I was fine yesterday but today, I have anxiety. Someone from my past sent me an email and that has somehow triggered the anxiety.
I'm scared. I used to have parents watch out for me. There was always a home to go back to when life went wrong or when there was a free afternoon. The folks were always home waiting for me. But there is no home to go home to anymore. It scares me. My parents were my security.
MissionBlue, I am in the same situation - people have either died or left this city to move to cheaper parts. People are leaving - either leaving Earth or leaving this city. It is getting lonelier and lonelier.
I miss my parents badly. All those things I used to do with my mother, I can't do any more because it reminds me she is no longer here.
Someone said to me yesterday - Christmas is for those with good lives. So true. The happy ones having a happy time. The lonely ones get lonelier.
Wishing everyone peace for 2019
 

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Thank you, Tessa, for your very kind message.  I also wish you peace and comfort in 2019.  

My dad was my security, too.  Even when he could no longer physically protect me, I still felt happy and safe knowing he was with me.  I miss him so much because we liked so many of the same things.  I can hardly watch the movies we used to watch together anymore because they remind me of the happiness I have lost. 

It's tough to see the houses in my neighborhood where my old friends and relatives used to live.  It might as well be a ghost town, because the people who now live here are not as friendly.  They're always fighting over parking spaces to the point of bashing in each other's car windows.  That kind of thing was unheard of here fifty years ago.  We didn't even have to lock our front door back in the 1960's when I was a little girl.  

I don't like living alone, so now I have a badass roommate.  With Ernesto around I feel safe but still lonely because he has a difficult personality.   It's quite different living with him than with my sweet, kind father, to say the least.  But I do care  about him, and I think he cares about  me,  to a point.  My dream is to find someone more compatible and fun-loving to enjoy life with me. 

I think the only solution is to start a new life and make new memories.  Joining MeetUps, activity groups or volunteer work can increase one's chances of making new friends.  I plan to do this after I sell my home and move to a new neighborhood.  My home is not home anymore without my loved ones.  I'm most interested in finding a life partner because I feel nobody is going to care about me quite as much as someone who actually lives with me and loves me.  Even if I never find a soulmate, at least I will have tried and may gain more confidence in myself the more I try. 

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silverkitties

Good to see you again, Missionblue and Tessa!

Missionblue, thanks for the good wishes. There were days when I doubted if I would ever finish it. I honestly wonder what the editors thought when I keot saying just "two more months"  finally turned into "next month," then "next week," and finally a "few more days." LOL. And each excuse was repeated several times.  But of course, they didn't know about the times I had to stay up all night because my dad was having a fit. The day I spent 6 hours trying to pull him up off the floor. The other times I had to chase him back into the house. THe days I called the suicide hotline. Having virtually NO ONE--except for an aunt who had a terrible marriage and got divorced--understand my situation. I've had relatives add insult to injury by defending my dad: one actually unfriended me on Facebook, so I blocked her on Messenger and on my phone. She sent a gift just a few days ago via Amazon: unfortunately, there was no indication as to the sender or I would have returned it.) Life is too short to deal with jackasses: if you've never been abused, don't you DARE try to downplay someone's experience with emotional abuse. No one I know has had their lives completely wrecked by one parent or both.  Anyway...I finally managed to complete the book at the beginning of December, a week or so after Thanksgiving. Another writer asked me if I cried as I worked on the last paragraph. I said I was just too tired to cry....having cried way too many times while writing this book.

Meanwhile, it's good to know you are still with Ernesto, as unfulfilling as you might present it. I think he loves you in his own way. The fact that his kids take good care of you shows that they know and appreciate your role in his life. I get the feeling that you will both grow into one another even if you don't feel he's 100% compatible.

Your comments on church remind me painfully of the first Xmas without my mom when members of the Taiwanese ASS-ocation brought us to a concert. The church was beautifully decorated and the singers simply wonderful. It was such an experience that mom would have loved--and as such so bittersweet. It reminded me of the times I attended church concerts in Europe with her. The fact that my dad is so slow, stupid and bumbling--the complete opposite of my mom--made it even worse. And, of course, seeing all of those families so perfectly put together made me feel so out of it. I felt doubly displaced--no family of my own and no mom either. Meanwhile, the women looked so terrific with their perfect husbands, children, and parents. I guess I will always be the perpetual outsider. There is always going to be perpetual outsider to make others feel good. That quotation from Tessa's friend sums it up perfectly well. It's true: the happy ones are happier on the holidays. And the lonely ones even lonelier.  **** YOU, GOD!

Tessa, I'm probably still as angry as ever. I'm a little less so only because my dad is in rehab. But I know he will be back home and I worry about that because it means I will need to find a full-time nurse for my dad. And as such, I need to find a full-time job. In some ways, I'm probably even worse than before: I honestly have no idea what will happen to me. I may even have to move, depending on the level of care my dad needs. But I'm too tired and my osteoarthritis--thank god it's not cancer--is quite severe. I have no idea how I will possibly pack and move. I really don't want to move to a smaller place with my dad as I can't stand him at all. At leatr in a larger house he's not constantly in my face.

Right now, I feel even worse because I lost my favorite cat bag--the one I bought for myself but gave to my mom (she wanted it because the cat looked like our kitties)--and which I started using after she passed. Sounds dumb, but this little PVC bag makes me feel close to my mom and cats.  I am almost 100% positive I left it in my dad's hospital room where I brushed my teeth after eating. I forgot to put the bag back into my purse, probably leaving it on the windowsill where I sat...but didn't discover the loss until yesterday when I went to visit my dad in rehab for the Xmas lunch. (I didn't go anywhere on Sunday or Monday.)  I brushed it aside, figuring that the bag would be returned to me since it wasn't a status item and had a fair amount of stuff--mostly used lipglosses, toothpaste, and brush. Who the hell would steal that--or dump it since it was in very good shape and obviously being used?? It's not like it was a ratty bag with nothing inside; that would have been more easily disposed of. After all, my dad was only discharged on Monday night; it's not like an entire week elapsed.  Well, no one has picked it up or turned it in to the lost and found. Hope the ahole who either stole or dumped it suffers a horrific accident in 2019!

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It is a pleasure to see silver kites mission blue and Tessa after long time .My father went to Heaven in year 2000 and my mother went to Heaven in December 2017 . Then I read almost all the posts in Forum living.com from starting till end and I read in detail the posts from mission blue, silver kites Tessa and you all were very very active on this forum long back . it was a nice pleasure to see them back on this forum.  I am also an adult orfan , male aged 44 and just remembering my mother almost every time . My Godess Mother first angel anniversary was 4 days back on 24th December . now I am all the time remembering my lovely mother and I am always thinking that if I had given good medical care for my mother she must be alive and be with us. I had made a mistake by not looking at the symptoms and her problems smartly and quickly to show to Doctors in time and also I made a wrong decision by admitting my GODESS Mother in Gov Hospital . I should have admitted her in the best private Hospital . Dear All keep visiting this foRum  and wish you Happy New year 2019 . 

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silverkitties

Neer,I think we all do what we think we have to do during an emergency...it's not until,all has passed that we begin to wonder if we could have done things differently. I know I felt guilty for the longest time....until  I read two articles by doctors who had to tend to their dying parents. They too were confused and were never sure if they had made the right decisions.. Soif medical professionals can feel just as conflicted and guilty too, we realize that no one has the perfect answer.

Like you, I wish I had brought my mom to a different hospital. Yet,we had always gone to that particular one and both my parents seemed to do well there.After all,my mom appeared to have recovered very quickly after her stroke. My dad had done well too--so it didn't occur to me to search for another hospital. It wasn't until she began to deteriorate rapidly before our eyes that we had our doubts.

At the end of the day. the only thing we can do is to try not to repeat the same mistakes. That's why I brought my dad to a different hospital. 

Eve, it's good to see you again!! I'm sorry I didn't reply to your last pm; as I looked at the date, I realize that the was the week I had serious problems with my dad. It was on te 17th that I had to bring him to the hospital. He is still in rehab.  I'll respond to you tomorrow; I have to get up early for the roofing guy.

I would like to add that I got my bag back! As it turned out,the hospital staff wrapped it with my dad's belongings.But the nurse at rehab did not see the bag as dad put it in his drawer.Thank god because i was feeling so depressed about the loss of the bag. (Some of you here--Eve--might remember me discussing it in a very early post.)

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Dear Silver,

Glad to hear you got your bag back.

Thank you for coming back and letting us know where you are in your journey. Its been two years for me and it still feels horribly odd to be on this earth without my dad.

Take care my friends. Wishing you all peace and comfort in 2019.

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silverkitties

Good to see you too,Reader--this almost feels like a family reunion. I still remember the times we used to post regularly!

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Silverkitties, I read what you wrote in Nuvar's topic about your father not taking on the responsibilities of a father, husband and provider.
We have one of that species who married into our family. He killed by mother (with stress)
After my father passed away, I discovered he was living off us, quietly siphoning money from us. He kept his money for himself while he lived off my sister (his wife) which overflowed onto us.
I threw him out which started the fights.
My mother died of stress and a broken heart. She had 2 daughters fighting because one was married to that POS. She couldn't pay rent. The children had gone astray.
It was a mess and my mother suffered the disappointment and grief.
I understand your anger at your father. I have the same anger over the one that was in our family. He's been thrown out. We're now one sister less because she went with him.
 

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silverkitties

Thanks for getting it, Tessa--and I'm sorry you've had to deal with a POS too. I can never understand women who stick to their abusive husbands. It's like they've bought into the myth that a woman is no one unless she is married or in a relationship. And unfortunately, there are even many educated, professional women who feel the same way. Shame on them.

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Silverkitties, you said in your post "I realize none of this is very comforting" but I want you to know that I found it quite comforting.  My mother died nine months ago and I still find myself sometimes feeling panicked that I'll never get past the heartache.  Your account of your journey through grief has echoed my own and made me realize that there will be stages to getting through it and also gave me hope that I will get through it.  There may be a step back for every step-and-a-half forward and I know I will always miss her, but I felt better after reading about where you are after four years.  So thank you for sharing your story and your feelings.   

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silverkitties

Marbeth, I only just saw your post even though I've read your other ones.Let me just say that everything you've said about your feelings resonate.  Tomorrow, my dad returns home from rehab. I can't help but wish it were mom instead. I felt a real pang when I looked out the window and saw a car that was the exact color and make as my mom's. It even looked like it was about to turn into our driveway. But, of course, it wasn't my mom's, especially as it drove right past our house.

And now, as I clean up for my dad's return, I also can't help but think of all those occasions when I cleaned up for my mom's return from Taiwan. What cheerful occasions they were, even if my mom grumbled that the place was still not clean enough for her! Just as for you, my mom was my everything. Yes, we had our fights and over some of the dumbest things no less. But we got along for the most part as we enjoyed watching the same movies, political topics, gossip, and fashion.l It took at least a few years for me not to feel heartbreak when I watched the Ralph Lauren fashion show by myself. Or to shop online and ready to pop something she'd like into my virtual cart--only to remember a split second later that there was no need.

This past week, I happened to stumble on youtube videos of cross-country train rides. Wouldn't it be great if mom and I could travel all the way to CA, sharing a roomette on the train? How much fun it would be to sup together in the dining car with some of the most awesome scenery. Or sit in one of the cars with full scale windows--before turning in for the evening in a cozy cabin where we could watch a movie together or we would read to ourselves.

And now, here I am stuck with this POS of a father who has dementia, no bladder control,. and is stupid and gauche to boot. My sleep habits will be wrecked all over again. This was the man who cheated on my mother and made my youth a living hell. And now I have to take care of this dimwit, doofus, douchebag, dogshit, dumbass dad: a man who has an Ivy Ph.D. but frequently thinks and acts like someone with little more than a 5th grade education. No wonder he got along so well with his whore of an uneducated cousin!   Why, oh, why, did mom not divorce him for cheating on him? She could have lived a lot longer had she gotten alimony  without having to take care of her weakling wimpy wuss of a husband. Maybe she wouldn't have died from cancer which is exacerbated by stress. No one knows how much I longed for him to die so mom and I could enjoy a decent life without his endless puerile complaints and needs.

WHY, OH GOD, DID YOU NOT JUST HAVE MOM MISCARRY ME??? WHY COULDN'T YOU KILL OFF THIS POS OF A FATHER? SOMEONE THAT DUMB DOES NOT NEED TO BE 89!

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Silverkitties, is there any way at all that you could afford to put your dad into assisted living?  The anger you feel toward him is justifiable but ultimately it will do you more harm than it will him.  My mom went into assisted living when it became physically hard for me to help her--I realized that I was either going to hurt my back trying to lift her (in which case I wouldn't be any help to her at all) or she was going to fall and get hurt.  Assisted living is wicked expensive but sometimes it's the best choice.  I financed it with my mom's Social Security and savings, and I know some people can get Medicaid.

I apologize if I've brought up an option that would be financially impossible for you, but I'm telling you:  If it's at all possible, please look into it.  Let someone who is trained and paid to do this work deal with your father.  Hopefully at 89 he won't be in there for many more years.  Hanging on to your own sanity is important.

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silverkitties

Marbeth, thanks for asking--the answer is unfortunately not. I don't know if you've read some of my earlier posts or a post I wrote on Nuvar's thread, but basically my dad destroyed my career--in addition to being personally abusive.  It is because of that that I am living with him. I barely make enough for myself, let alone to cover his expenses. Maybe if I had a decent salary like other full professors, I could do so. You know, full professors who were able to get there because they didn't have their hopes and dreams squashed by a deadbeat dad. The only way I could put the ASSwipe in ASS-isted living is if we sold the house, which we simply cannot do.

I would give ANYTHING for this deadbeat, dimwit, dingbat, dipshit, doofus, douchebag, dumbass Dad to die. He's home and making trouble already. He is babbling in Japanese to his imaginary friends, imagining that he's going to marry the princess of Japan. I try my best to disabuse him--I ask him which princess would want to marry an ugly peasant like him with his bald pate, fat, flat nose, blubber lips, and 1" prick to go with his shrimpy 5'3" stature. What princess would want a troll doll? He phucking needs to live under a bridge!  His slow wit, slow pace, lack of manners and decorum make me SICK--what a contrast to Mom!  He had the gall to yell at me--and quite honestly, if the personal aide were not there, I would hurl a bucket of water at him or squirt him with vinegar. He really bugs the CRAP out of me.  In fact, I don't know if I will be able to sleep at all tonight.

Each and every day when he was here or I was visiting him, I would take care to remind him that he killed mom and destroyed my life--and that if I were him, I would commit suicide. Right now, he's obsessed with his "imaginary" friends and relatives--especially the disgusting male relatives in his extended family--and he's always saying they're going to bring him money or food. I answer, "who the hell wants to be a friend with a short, ugly loser like you? Your own brother doesn't even want you. All your friends have written several books. They teach at great schools. All you could do is teach at a 3rd rate state university and 2ndrate Taiwanese university that no one has ever heard of. All while phucking your ugly cousin. Why would anyone want to be with you? Give it up. Kill yourself." That usually gets him to sober up and shut up for about 10 minutes before he starts his verbal diarrhea all over again. It makes me SICK to look at this ugly dumbass who was spoiled by his mother and my mom, yet NEVER achieved anything great. All he has ever written is one stupid, self-published book because no decent publisher wanted to deal with him since his English is so poor despite having lived here in the US for over 50 years. I can laugh at him because at ;least my book proposal got accepted by a respectable publisher and I was able to write it these last 5 years even with the grief and time wasted with His Royal Asshole.

I have half a mind to write to Donald Trump. "Dear Donald, please deport my dimwit, dipshit dad. Thank you." [How's that for alliteration?]

But for now, all I can say is this: he's made my youth and adulthood entirely miserable. AND I INTEND TO PAY IT BACK WITH INTEREST! NO REGRETS!

To Mom: you loved this jackass. You thought you could never live without him and married him against your mother's wishes. And stuck with him despite the fact that he made a fool out of you by cheating on you so publicly in front of his students and colleagues. If you love him so much, PLEASE TAKE HIM TO WHERE YOU ARE NOW! 

HE NEEDS TO DIE! PLEASE, GOD, FINISH HIM OFF!

 

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silverkitties

Today is Chinese New Year's Eve--February 4, 2019.

I HOPE MY DAD DIES THIS YEAR!!

I'm calling his younger brother--THE ONE WHO RIPPED OFF MY FATHER TO HIS SHARE OF THE ESTATE--tonight to curse them. I WISH DISEASE, FAILURE, AND DEATH ON HIS ENTIRE FAMILY--HIS WIVES (yes, plural!), CHILDREN, AND GRANDCHILDREN.

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silverkitties i hope u are able to cool things down and bring calm to yourself. 

it's a new year (lunar) and things are renewed, i hope everyone here gets a better year in some way.

calling them will only make matters worse and bring more ill-feelings for yourself, it's like feeding your inner demon.

And the thing is, they wouldnt even care about u, what u think or what u did. they would just brand you as evil, foul-mouthed. it's pointless, try to get out of it and live life for yourself. i sincerely hope you read this because i am dealing with many of such issues on my own - guilt, anger, sadness, hatred, pain etc. Im luckier that my father was a rather good person and my mum helped me in many ways and helped him in many ways, but when shiat hits the fan I get very angry and mad dealing with an alzheimers patient.

Also, sure, my dad is most probably more responsible than yours, but still we deal with the daily shiats....... Looking at it from another angle, I feel more guilt than you do, because hey- my dad wasnt bad. He didnt choose to get alzheimers. So I get scolded and branded as a useless arse from relatives and neighbours who have never lived a day in my life. I juggle with personal issues, mental struggles, financially and i have to do all the housework my mum did (cooking, washing, ironing, taking care of meds and groceries) and I still have to work. I still have to do many other things and Im still trying to get my business going.

Exacting revenge on happy, successful people by scolding them is really not going to get you anywhere, im sure you know this better than I do

 

like others suggested, you need to consider sending him to a home or moving away and asking authorities for help. only when you have settled your business or calmed down would u be able to take care of yourself and take care of him (a little, if you wish). 

Wishing everyone a better year ahead

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silverkitties

Well, too late, Nuvar--I called them right after posting this last night and I never felt so good!

I don't resent them because they're happy and successful: if anything, the relatives on my mom's side are even more successful. But they have been much more supportive--that is, emotionally speaking. I don't expect anyone to contribute to us financially.

However, I do resent my dad's brother because he took over the entire family property--and had the gall last year to tell us that Dad never contributed to his parents when he did. That jackass sent $200-300 EVERY MONTH FOR AT ;LEAST 20 YEARS to them. If his brother were poor, I would understand. But he's not--he already makes lots of money and took EVERYTHING,. 

I called because I know they're very superstitious. I personally don't give a rat's ass what they think of me. If they cared, they wouldn't have done what they did. They never even called or wrote anything to us when my mom died.

And btw, hiring a full time nurse is out of the question because I don't make enough. As it is, I can barely pay them part-time.  Now, I won't say that I would necessarily be much better off had my father allowed me to study what I wanted. But I do believe that he delayed my career considerably: this is dangerous in a society  that only values youth.  In other words, my father not only wreaked psychological abuse on me but helped wreck my career. None of my friends or most of my cousins had to go through with what I did. (Interestingly, one cousin on my dad's side got it worse than me--but he is no longer on speaking terms with his dad.)

The authorities won't help because my dad makes too much to qualify: and unfortunately, his pension only barely covers our mortgage, food, and daily living expenses.

And to top all this off, he is so stubborn that even the aides who come in to help have to call me every 10 minutes to calm him down. HOW CAN I WORK LIKE THAT? He is so obsessed with food and only wants to eat his favorites which are WAY too salty and unhealthy for him;. I have to alternate between begging and threatening him--before bribing him with ice cream. At the same time, he keeps insisting his relatives or the restaurant are bringing food to him. I say, dad, you don't even have a phone in your room. How can you order? How can you know if anyone is coming? Then he starts talking to an imaginary person.

For instance, the other day, he kept insisting there was ginger ale downstairs. The aide and I told him, no there is no ginger ale. He kept insisting that one of his cousins brought it. And on and on. Half an hour later, the aide is trying to help him change his clothes. He refuses. It takes 20 minutes....

Now, her's always been dumb--but now he's even dumber. Every day, I waste so much time with him that I feel too exhausted to work. Honestly, if he hadn't been sent to the hospital and rehab I would never have finished my book.  This is why a 3 year project took 5!

Btw, don't beat yourself up for feeling frustrated with your dad. It's only human when everything feels like it's falling apart and your one source of comfort--your mom--is gone.

 

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