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February 5, 2013
It's not just the mind bending confinement of being the caretaker. It's also the super exposure to something ailing in my midst; the proverbial itch that can't be scratched. All my life, this father has been there to support me, care for me, help me financially, have fun vacations with me, and now his slow passing cries out for some action and all I can do is witness his decline. Each day feels like a failure in some sense. He's no closer to the edge, he's not getting better. I'm not any closer to him. This is inchoate, persistent, stagnation.