My father will always be a part of me. His soul will continue to live through me each day as I face my life everyday as a fearless man as he did. That’s one thing I can say for dad. The man had no fear. He could kick the devil’s ass. He was a part of God no one wants to acknowledge. A part of me too. The animal. The brut. The unstoppable storm. The tall, dark stranger that rolls through town on a pale horse. A rain that comes and washes away all the scum. Dad lives through me as I speak. He is a vegetable laying on his death bed in a nursing home. My brothers and sisters could care less. They’re consumed by their selfishness and their drugs. Meanwhile I walk the line and I will hold the line until me and the old man meet again when he’s in his right mind. Hopefully in a peaceful place. Last thing dad said to me is that he wanted to go home. Well, let the man go home. His body will die but his soul will live on in paradise and through me. Though men like us deserve pure hell for our nature, let us bathe in your light for our gentleness and protective nature. As my old man always said I have the patience of a saint but I have grit of a grizzly. Whatever demon or angel lived in him lives in me too. Forgive him for his sins and pass his human life onto me. I can already feel it transitioning in me. I’m no longer myself. I am hardening into him. And it makes me want to become a cop. And all I want is serenity for my father. I pray for this with all of my heart. I’ve seen your mercy. Give it to my father. Let him go home. Forgive him. Welcome him and keep him. His body is just a shell. I’m over the physicality of life. Honestly I’m ready to go home too but I know I’m needed here to hold the line. God, let my old man go home. Give him peace. Get him out of the hell of laying in bed in a nursing home 24/7. And help me accept his death and embrace his spirit rising into the afterlife. Amen.
I also ask for any advice from people who've dealt with dying parents.
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