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Wednesday, September 12, 2012

The Story Of How I Am A HORRIBLE Son ...

This isn't going to be the longest post I've ever written here. Sorry. I could really turn this into a massive, epic sort of post about me and my family and my feelings, but this story pains me greatly and I really don't feel like dwelling too much on it. In fact I would just love to skip it but something in me says that I really SHOULD share this story here.

So here goes.

About a week ago, shortly after my saturday storytime at work, I got a text from my mother asking how it went and for me to give her a call. I said to myself "Steve, remember to call my parents tonight!" But I was so busy that I just forgot.

The next day during church I received the exact same text message, word for word, from my mother. That's odd, I thought, and then thought nothing more of it.

It was then, during that second text, that I decided to blow off my mother's text.

So either that day or the next day, I forgot exactly when, I was playing on my new smartphone with my youngest daughter, when I got a call from my mom. "Your mom's calling, daddy. Do you want me to answer it?" she said, but I SHUSHed her, hoping my wife didn't hear her say that because if my wife knew that my mom was calling then she would make me answer it and I didn't feel like it. I didn't feel like talking to my parents.

This is why I decided to avoid them. I thought that if I talked to my parents then I would end up telling them all about how my son is walking and almost a year old and how my youngest daughter is almost seven and funny and bright and how my oldest daughter is super smart and at the top of her class and about how great work is going and about how great my life is.

And all I would hear from them is about how money is tight and how they might not get to keep their house and how my brother is on the verge of divorce and how he is wanting to try and kill himself again and about how bad things are. And I would want to be there for for them to be here. But that's impossible on all accounts.

So I would end up feeling guilty. I would feel bad that I wasn't there for my parents and for my brother. I would feel bad that I'm here so far away having a good life while my real family suffers. I would end up feeling like shit. And I didn't want that. So I ignored my mother's call.

A few days later I was bored on my hour long drive to work so I called my parents to see how things were. I made up some flimsy excuse about not getting in touch with them sooner, something about my phone not working at home which was only partially true.

This is why she was trying to get ahold of me ...

About a week before my father went for a bike ride. It was getting dark. And either he was hit head on or was run over by a car that sped off afterwards.

He ended up being airlifted to the Intensive Care Unit.

My dad almost died.

And I couldn't be bothered with it.

This is the story of how I am a horrible son and the story of why I feel like shit right now.

My dad is out of the hospital now and is doing a lot better.

Still, it probably wouldn't hurt if you sent him your prayers or animal sacrifices or whatever.

That's that.

More later ...

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