I was sat at my dad’s kitchen table. He yelled a little and then I could see the immediate regret and fear in his eyes. I didn’t take the bait and I just put my head down to stifle my natural response. We only have each other left. He thinks I will leave him if he is himself. Yes, I visit less often than when my mom was still here. And what he doesn’t know is that I promised my mom I wouldn’t leave him. There is a concept that I think is missing in Western culture and it’s the duty to care for your loved ones. Our older generation didn’t have the resources or language on mental health as we do now but it doesn’t mean they love us less. They express it differently. And I don’t have the expectation that someone with a failing memory at 73 years old is ready to go on a self-discovery journey. I’m almost in my 40’s and try and change my mind about 90s hip-hop.
My dad showed me all of his bank account information and the documents for the land back home. He is ready to leave and be with his mom. The thought of being an orphan is terrifying. Writing this is making me tear up in this suburban Detroit coffee shop filled with the admin team from all the grow ops in the area. California dudes with truckers hats ready to tell you ‘Detroit is cooler than people think.’
He enjoys my company more than I thought. After he showed me the documents we sat down and he kept trying to feed me but you know, calorie count. After a while, his phone started ringing and he had to go pick up customers. He looks at me and say something I haven’t heard since we were kids, It instantly made me think of all the times we went to the park and wanted to play all night and he would gentle tell us, ‘oookay, come one, let’s go guys.”