Our "party" last night didn't go as good as we planned. Daddy had two martinis before supper and was quite wobbly on his feet. He also was in a bad mood because Mother interrupted him when he was telling about what he had for lunch. I was doing the dishes 'til 8:30 {that's pretty late} and my homework until 11:45 pm! {and that's even later!} I was in such a deep sleep this morning. I was so, heavy, I guess you would call it. I couldn't wake up.
Note:
March 7 is my dad's birthday, so I am assuming the party was his birthday party. This is the first time I write about his drinking. I didn't know at the time, but he had/has a drinking problem. 12 years ago he was in the hospital for heart problems that were blamed on his excessive use of alcohol. I remember my father coming home from work and drinking a couple of very large vodka martinis then passing out in his chair before supper. My mom would plead with my brother or me to wake dad up because he was such a bear when awakened.
He now has a condition called Alcoholic Dementia and recently spent ten days in the hospital.
I once thought a good beginning sentence of my memoirs would be, "My family didn't become dysfunctional until I moved out" Perhaps a fitting second sentence or rest of that sentence would go something like "...Or so I used to think. I suppose they were dysfunctional all along and it took distance to recognize it."
On a lighter note, I actually laughed out loud when I read "He also was in a bad mood because Mother interrupted him when he was telling about what he had for lunch." I don't remember this time, but do remember that he hated to be interrupted.
No comments:
Post a Comment