When it Rains.
So many things are happening at the moment. I got a call I’ve been long expecting last night: my father is having heart trouble. We don’t know how serious it is yet, but it sounds pretty serious to me. Shortness of breath is always bad. He’s been in a wheelchair for something like eighteen years now, and doesn’t work too hard at controlling his diabetes. It’s always only ever been a matter of time. They’re going to refer him to a cardiologist, it seems. We’ll see.
My tenant abruptly abandoned my home in St. Louis. With no tenant and no real contacts there anymore, I’ve decided to sell it. So, I’m down a decent amount of income and additionally have to make all the repairs you have to make to a home to sell it. In this case, it will include the demolition of a detached garage. This is going to be very expensive, but I ought to get it back if the house sells well. I’m told the market is good.
I’m trying to sell my house in ECC too, of course, and it isn’t selling. But now, with a drop in income, I’m thinking of taking it off the market. It’s cheaper to own than rent, now that I’ve fixed all the problems. I’ll just have to see, I guess.
It’s a lot to do and a lot of stress and I don’t know what I’m up for at the moment. But I’m sober, I’m as sane as alcoholics get, and I’m better at handling situations that used to baffle me than I was before… when they baffled me. I can figure all this stuff out. And I may not be able to contribute as much to Dad’s situation as I’d like in the short term. And I may not be able to move to the nice fancy apartment I wanted to. At least not yet.
But my situation is not dire. I’m complaining because I have two houses to sell. Because I have lost some of my disposable income. Because it’s all a big pain in the ass. Well, guess what. Most of those are luxury problems. I know how to manage them. My personal life is in good shape. I have a job which pays all my bills and then some. And I’m healthy and happy when my stress levels are not spiked.
The only real problem here is that my father is possibly dying. Which is kind of unsurprising given his health, behaviors, and age. And even this problem, from my own perspective – which is the point of writing here – is common to most people. Middle-aged men like myself begin to have to consider the deaths of their parents. My father is about to turn 75, and has been sick for a long time. He’s going to die sooner rather than later, though I have no real idea what “sooner” means.
But this is life. Life ends. And the rest of us go on with our own lives as we can. We’ll see what happens.