Melancholy Hideaway

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When you spend many hours and even days alone you have uninterrupted time to think, time to ponder questions of value to the betterment of your life. Conclusions are reached, decisions made without distractions, clear is my mind in the early morning mist. And yet, somethings are still dim in the light of day no matter the effort.

This last week has been a roller coaster of trials in my mind. I finally procured a bed at a nursing home for my father that was much closer to the family, and alot more “homey” in the hopes of improving his quality of life for however much time he has left. All was well for 2 days until he had an outburst of anger and violence that led to his being removed to a local hospital, something I wrote about in my last post.

I now sit in my truck 1500 miles away, unable to sleep due to the stress of the week. There were some questions as to whether the nursing home would take him back or if I would have to find another place for him. My effort to give him a better quality of life was crumbling before me, my attempt at doing the right thing clouded by uncertainty. Today they said they would take him back on Monday, Maybe I will sleep tonight.

As I lay back in my melancholy hideaway I cant help but feel a great need to separate myself from the world. I close the privacy curtain and allow myself to feel free from the strife of my burden, free to let my mind roam to the open sea that I so desperately long for. Visions of sunrises with nothing but my dog and a seagull for company, a sunset with the soft sway as swells gently lull me into a blissful slumber.

I know that the things I do for my parents are the calling I was born to, the truest form of giving I can hope to accomplish in my life. I do this not out of a hope for notice but because it is the right thing to do. I will go to my grave knowing I did my best to give my folks the support they need at the most vulnerable time of their lives, a time when they have to relinquish some control over their well being to those who care most for them. I will not fail them in this en devour.

I gladly put my life on hold, my dreams of a life on the water can wait. NOTHING in this world is more important the commitment of a person to their parents, for without them we would not be here to dream. My time will come, my dreams will be fulfilled. My melancholy hideaway will change from the cab of this truck to the cockpit of my future sailboat on the open sea.

My dream of freedom from the modern society will never be quashed, only delayed. My goal of self sufficiency is not unattainable. I will achieve my ultimate goal, it’s just a matter of time.




10 thoughts on “Melancholy Hideaway

  1. I left a comment on your about page re: did u get ur sailboat yet?
    I have a great deal of respect for the sacrifices you are making for others. While now may not be the time, continuing to strive for your dreams will always bring you closer to the destination. (whatever that may be.)

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Ohhhh. Your poor dad. I can’t even imagine his struggles. Hope he’s doing ok. Seems like in some of your other posts you beat yourself up for not being enough for your folks. Those of us reading KNOW you’re a great son. Reading this is refreshing. It’s like you see what we see once… Hang in there. You’re doing this well. It has to be soooo hard.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. We have been through something very similar, although they have all passed now. I put off my desire to move overseas until my mum died. It is a strange thing when they die, you are relieved and heartbroken all at the same time. To this day, I dream of my mum and in-laws almost every night even though my mum died 15 years ago. This is a wonderful gift that you give your parents. K x


  4. We went through something similar with mum in law’s dementia. I still dream of them all every week even though they have all passed. You are giving your parents such a gift by caring for them. Sometimes it gets worse before it gets better. I had a sense of relief when my mum died but was heartbroken, too. You are a good son.


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