Saturday, March 29, 2014

My Father -Family Drama

My father's health has been declining for the past two years. It started right before Zelda's first birthday. Family came to visit, and they ended up having to take him to the hospital in GR. He has been diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis, along with the many psychological disorders including depression, and bipolar. His mental health has always made me nervous, and he has never been a nice man.

I can remember my mother hanging onto a wooden rocking chair from a relative. I'm assume she wanted to refinish it, and my father hated it. He smashed it all across our garage one night, and she held onto the broken pieces for months in her van in a garbage bag. And that's the way things worked in my family. Dad took care of the house and destroyed everything he didn't like, and Mom tried to fix it, hide it, and not be in the way. Once I put the paper towels the wrong way on the holder, and he ripped it off the cabinet. That's the first time I remember taking something he had broken, hid it, and put it back together before replacing it.

I punched him and stole a car when I left the house at 20. The rift didn't heal until after Zelda was born. He told me once he didn't want to be a grandpa. He told my sister that she wasn't his daughter out of anger.

Now he's the one that is broken. Last month I attended the funeral of my great-aunt. An eight hour drive to Illinois, a newly potty trained toddler, we survived the funeral until the drive back to Grand Rapids. An hour from home, 11 at night, my father lost complete control of reality. He called the cops, kicked my center console to pieces, kicked my Windows, kicked me and started beating the shit out of my mother. 75 down the highway, screaming, kicking, punching, crying, I pulled over and told my mom to call the cops.

They transported him to the local hospital, and we learned why he was upset. He had kidnapped him and were going to take him to a labor camp, and they were only going to feed us 300 calories a day. The best part, he wanted a divorce because me and my mother had been taken over by a cult.

If you've met me, I'm about as atheist as it gets.

Since then, he backed into a police car, destroyed my moms bathroom killing 'giant rats,' and called the cops on my mother for stealing his car (they only have one vehicle right now and my sister has school while my mother works full time).

The police suggested that he be hospitalized, and he has been there for almost a month.

From what my mother has said, he is showing early onset dementia, convinced he is working on a play and that he knocked someone up and wants to be in the baby's life.

Not sure the point of this was, but, I guess I've got a lot going on right now. Things are kinda crazy. And what more can I do but take care of my family.

What can I do?