Current mood:

crushed

My dad, for the second night in a row, had to be carried up the stairs. Tonight I came downstairs to see him passed out on the couch, burning cigarette loosely clinging to his fingers.

I'm getting the same feeling I had before my mom died. He takes so many painkillers; I don't know what to do. What if he was in his bedroom, and dropped his cigarette on the carpet or bed? I feel so powerless, but I feel like I'm going to lose him.

It feels like a repeat of history. Walking a parent up the stairs, the slurring, me being the parent. I'm just very frightened, and I'm wondering if these ARE his last days, if I should be spending every second with him to savor those moments. You always wish that you knew, so you can make the most out of the time left.

It's crazy that whenever I approach his sleeping body, part of me prepares for finding a corpse who'd gone in his sleep.