My father is the kind of sick that only ends when the laws of thermodynamics take full effect...and that may not be for a while. I'm kinda hiding behind writing and coding right now.
I can stand up and do what I have to do, but I wish I knew how to comfort people rather than just help. I wish I was capable of being comforted. I keep seeing with my memory instead of my eyes. Probably because I don't really want to see with my eyes.
My parents have been married for over 50 years. I can't imagine what my mom is feeling.
And what's really fucked up is I can't stop being clinical in my observations of my father. I can't help recognizing every fragment that falls away.