My Dad

My dad is in hospital. he has lung cancer, and I've been waiting for this. He is very ill, and I've been told that he probably doesn't have very long.He lives in Ireland, in County Kerry. There is, realistically, no way that I can get there to see him at the moment. It's not a matter of money; I have other commitments. If I could get on a train and go see him today, I would; but I simply can't get on a plane and leave the country for the weekend right now.

I feel horrible about this, for a variety of different reasons.

I owe this man precisely nothing, except perhaps an extended shouting at.

There are people who live their lives purely for themselves and don't give a damn about other people. I don't like that way of thinking, but I can respect it. But my dad does give damn about other people... it pains him terribly that they don't live their lives purely for him, too.

He is a wonderful artist, and has a lovely way with language. he was a very good teacher for many years (I know this because I have, in the course of my working life, met people who were taught by him).

But he chose to devote his life to drink and drugs.

I have so many stories I can tell about what a selfish and dishonest person he has been in his life. But telling them now won't change anything. The only one that matters right now, is that he abandoned me and my mother, and then moved to another country- and yet he has always expected us to rearrange our lives to help him whenever he had any kind of problem.

I love him very much. And I am so angry at him, and always will be.