Shit Happens

Wednesday, March 11th, 2015

My dad suffers from Lewy Body Dementia,
a cruel form of dementia
that replaces memory and thought
with hallucinations (often horrific).

He tells me of a fellow Vet who served
in all of the major naval engagements of WWII
and lived to return home and start a family
only to be killed at work in a warehouse fire.

It’s my dad’s way of saying he wants to spend
down the remaining balance of his days
in his own home – he knows that shit happens
and he’s OK with that. I’m OK with that –

but if cops catch him wandering around his
back yard at 2:00 AM in his skivvies, Wisconsin
will put him in a state-run nursing home –
one of his more gruesome hallucinations.

I need to redeploy forces fighting my greater
jihad and transition, into assisted living, a man
who fought a war, built cathedrals, and raised
enough kids to field a hockey team.

The search for what might fill my tank is now
limited to my Fitbit, which finally arrived.
Tomorrow, I start training to hike up Mount
Kilimanjaro if only to burn off some calories.

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