PT Test #2/Insane Dad
I had to come back to the city for my second PT test. It was supposed to be today, but no one else was at the track when I arrived. I’m not heart-broken because the temperature was absolutely freezing. You could freeze the balls off a brass monkey. I have no idea how I was ever more tolerable of cold temperatures. If this job works out, I’m requesting the southern border.
Dad was talking to me last night. I confessed that he felt guilty being so depressed all the time. Immediately after he said that, he said, “but if I had died and mom was still alive, I would want her to be depressed, too.” That may not be a verbatim quote, but that’s what he said. His reasoning is that being depressed over her death is a testimony of how much he loved her. I understand that grieving is appropriate, but committing himself to spend the rest of his days in abject misery is so extreme. Besides, doing so also lessens the sincerity of his professed belief that he’ll see her again one day. Why does he have to be such a crotchety old fart? I don’t remember if I’ve shared this conversation, but here’s a snippet of a conversation he had with my sister:
Dad: I don’t want to take any medication. Anytime you take any sort of medication, there’s going to be a side effect.
Sister: But, Dad, you need to do something. You’re so depressed.
Dad: Of course, I’m depressed. Everyone should be depressed. They’re just too stupid not to be.
Ummm. Yeah.
I’d feel better if he’d just live cleaner. Namely, I’d like for him to throw old paper towels away instead of just leaving them on the floor and to clean out caked food residue from the microwave and toaster. Simple things that he can do but won’t because he can use his vision problems as a cop out. Speaking of which, he’s been able to drive a little, so he can’t be that feeble.
All of this makes me thing about how much I despise the Thanksgiving/Christmas season. Well, I don’t object to celebrating the survival of the pilgrims or the birth of Christ, but I could never really look forward to coming home. There was always some drama going on that I didn’t want to be around to witness. Now, I imagine visiting Dad after having been away for six months to find his house filled with trash and refuse because he allegedly can’t see to straighten up.
If death is such a certainty, why don’t more people give it more thought? My dad once told me, “I never would have expected [your mom] to die.” Ignoring the fact that the mortality rate is 100%, if you marry, there’s roughly a 50% chance you’ll be widowed one day. The other nigh 50% involves you dying first.
Granted, you could both die at once, but I imagine the chance of that is fairly small. I guess my point is that death is guarantee, yet so many people never anticipate having to face it. If not for themselves, then they certainly do not expect to have to face it in regards to losing someone they care about. It boggles my mind.
Dad was talking to me last night. I confessed that he felt guilty being so depressed all the time. Immediately after he said that, he said, “but if I had died and mom was still alive, I would want her to be depressed, too.” That may not be a verbatim quote, but that’s what he said. His reasoning is that being depressed over her death is a testimony of how much he loved her. I understand that grieving is appropriate, but committing himself to spend the rest of his days in abject misery is so extreme. Besides, doing so also lessens the sincerity of his professed belief that he’ll see her again one day. Why does he have to be such a crotchety old fart? I don’t remember if I’ve shared this conversation, but here’s a snippet of a conversation he had with my sister:
Dad: I don’t want to take any medication. Anytime you take any sort of medication, there’s going to be a side effect.
Sister: But, Dad, you need to do something. You’re so depressed.
Dad: Of course, I’m depressed. Everyone should be depressed. They’re just too stupid not to be.
Ummm. Yeah.
I’d feel better if he’d just live cleaner. Namely, I’d like for him to throw old paper towels away instead of just leaving them on the floor and to clean out caked food residue from the microwave and toaster. Simple things that he can do but won’t because he can use his vision problems as a cop out. Speaking of which, he’s been able to drive a little, so he can’t be that feeble.
All of this makes me thing about how much I despise the Thanksgiving/Christmas season. Well, I don’t object to celebrating the survival of the pilgrims or the birth of Christ, but I could never really look forward to coming home. There was always some drama going on that I didn’t want to be around to witness. Now, I imagine visiting Dad after having been away for six months to find his house filled with trash and refuse because he allegedly can’t see to straighten up.
If death is such a certainty, why don’t more people give it more thought? My dad once told me, “I never would have expected [your mom] to die.” Ignoring the fact that the mortality rate is 100%, if you marry, there’s roughly a 50% chance you’ll be widowed one day. The other nigh 50% involves you dying first.
Granted, you could both die at once, but I imagine the chance of that is fairly small. I guess my point is that death is guarantee, yet so many people never anticipate having to face it. If not for themselves, then they certainly do not expect to have to face it in regards to losing someone they care about. It boggles my mind.