I hate the smell of whiskey filtered through unwashed skin.
Half empty bottles.
Ranting about politics with slurred speech and an ignorant point of view.
If this was all he was I would not bother. I would leave him to die in his filth.
But he is the one who raised and supported us when my dad would not.
He is the one who took care of my mom until she took her last breath.
He is the one who stood in for my kids when their dad left.
He worked hard out in the heat every day to buy this house.
And it is up to me to take care of it and him.
It's come down to me and him.
Everyone else is gone.
But living outside of an alcoholic is so painful.
So infuriating.
So very lonesome.
I hate the smell of whiskey.
Mostly I hate what it does to a person.
What it causes them to become.
And I am just the caretaker of a man who has succumbed to despair.
Love did this. All of this.!
His love for her. For us.
Now she is gone.
Now he must just exist somehow with out her.
He has withdrawn his love and mostly stays sedated.
Now I'm the only one left who still loves.
Help is not coming.
I am the help
Leah W