She Unwillingly joins the Circus - Rollercoaster, Part 2

She turned the radio on in the rental, to make sure she stayed alert for the 45 minute drive to the hospital.  It was well past midnight and therefore ironic that Anna Nalick's 2 am was playing on the radio:

..he turned 21 on the base of Fort Bliss
"Just a day," he said down to the flask in his fist
Ain't been sober since maybe October of last year
Here in town you can tell he's been down for awhile

But my God it's so beautiful when the boy smiles ...

Forever after, that song would remind her of her father.  That particular night, she was doing exactly what the song suggested...just trying to breathe.  She was in the last stretch of road from the major city she flew into, to the smaller town where her dying father lay.  The verse of the song pricked her; her father likely adopted his drinking habits from his service in the Air Force, during the Vietnam Conflict.  He'd lied about his age, and enlisted at 16 years old.  By the start of Vietnam, he'd already flown many Top Secret missions over Russia throughout Asia.  She knew of the damage his service had wrought on him mentally.  She knew the night terrors contributed to his drinking.

Memories with her dad flooded her mind, childhood week ends at his apartment.  Excursions in the park.  Holding hands, with two of his fingers instead because her hand was so tiny and his so much bigger.  He had a pet name for himself, and then one for her too.  He loved The Beatles, Bob Dylan, and Led Zeppelin.  He also loved women, but didn't treat them very respectfully.  He had a temper.  He wasn't particularly good in a crisis, like that time he had to drive her to the ER after she cracked her head open...and yelled at her to stop crying on the way there.  But, he had been a constant in her young life.

She lived with him for a while when she was in high school (and had managed to disrespect her mom enough to get kicked out.)  He had said, "Here are the two rules...now do you want a beer?"  When she got married, he had asked her, "How did YOU get HIM to marry you?"  Not exactly a vote for best dad of the year.   When she moved to another state, he always referred her husband by the wrong name.  Later, when the kids were babies and nighttime sleep a rare commodity, he would call at all hours of the night randomly.  "Your dad's an old DRUNK!"  He'd recite, "But don't worry, I've got your children taken care of... I'll be worth more dead!" She'd carefully explain how that didn't matter to her, she wanted to enjoy him alive...and sober.  But he was always wasted drunk, and he would slur into the phone accusations of her not loving him enough.  At first she'd take these calls, anxious to have any contact with him...but they'd always end up with him hurling obscenities at her.  Overwhelmed with babies and lack of sleep, she finally decided to turn the ringer off at nights.  

But that was then and this was now.  She pulled up to the hospital, located his room and was ushered in.  All was hush, as it was the wee morning hours.  A ventilator methodically forced air into and out of his lungs, providing a monotone noise of artificial breathing as background music.  She sat at his bedside and took it all in.  Yellowed skin, overgrown hair and beard, puffy cheeks, bloated body and overgrown fingernails and toenails.  Dry and cracking skin on his feet.  Liver failure, and his organs shutting down, one by one...

"Hi daddy," she mustered.  No response.  "I'm here, " she continued, "I made it here and I love you."  She took his hand and hung her head in relief and despair.  She had made it in time.  But there was no movement, no response, no sign of recognition from him. There was nothing to do, but just sit and be with him.  So she did.  She sat with her dad, felt very alone, and cried.  

As the early morning hours approached, his second wife swept in, obviously flustered.  The wife's sister accompanied her.  "Oh, you made it...." they started.  "You should um, bring your things to the house."  She realized how odd it must have looked for her to bring her suitcase to the hospital room, but she hadn't even thought to reserve a hotel for herself.  After checking with the nurse to make sure her dad was stable for the next few hours, she agreed to go back to her dad's house to rest for a while.

She followed them in the rental car and they arrived at her dad's large home just a few miles from the hospital.  As they entered, a foreboding feeling washed over her.  The house was full of the step wife's family...the sister had a son, and all seemed to be squatting at her dad's home.  It smelled like cigarette smoke and there were piles everywhere.  Her dad....never smoked and always kept his home military grade organized.  The second wife was an "antique collector" and there were trashy knick knacks and clutter everywhere.  The house reeked of cigarette smoke. Her father HATED cigarette smoke.  As they ushered her into a cluttered room on the first floor, she was taken with how flustered everyone seemed.  She made a realization- none of them had really expected her come.  Exhausted, she just draped herself over the the bed and slept a couple hours.  

She wandered back out into the crowd that was her "step family."  She had known that the woman her dad had dated for years, and married just the year before...was from a large, Armenian family (think "Kardashians").  It seemed like half of them were living at her dad's house.  Dark haired, sexy full busted women  (the step mom and her sister), and the suave "nephew," (she never quite knew who's nephew he was?)  In her distracted grief, she wondered...why is this man even here?  He was at least 30 years old and worked as an architect in Southern California.  What was he doing hanging out two states away with his mom and his aunt?  Living off of her father was what he was doing, what they were doing.  

Her father had retired from active duty to the Naval Reserves.  He had gotten a job as an airline pilot, before Vietnam was over.  He then worked that glamorous, "girl in every port" life for the next 30+ years.  He wasn't a millionaire, but he lived very frugally, had lost a lot of his money on bad investment, but also had money saved up.  He had bought that 4 bedroom home with cash.  The second wife had been around for the last few years, enabling his drinking, providing her "Kardashian" family with funds and "opportunities" connected to her father.  This was like a circus show of characters, with something sordid under the surface.

Funny thing was, dad would pull her aside and comment on how much he loved that "step-mom"...but then with a devilish grin, he'd assert, "BUT what I REALLY want is to sleep with her sister!!"  The sister was always within arms reach and so she had this awful idea that maybe, at some point in the last few years....sigh, it was all a moot point now.  She wasn't even sure that she didn't have a sibling floating around the world somewhere...

But, she reasoned.  THIS was her dad's "family" for the last few years.  They loved him, and he allowed them to love him, however un-traditional it may be.  She decided she'd work with them, appreciate them, attempt to grieve with them, to move through this experience with grace.  The outcome was going to be the same; he was dying, and soon.  She excused herself and drove back to be with her father.  She took her things with her.  She wasn't staying with the circus.