My Lighthouse 

This blog started out as an outlet for what I thought was the hardest situation of my life.  Being with a sex addict, discovering the lies and betrayals were horrendous.  

All through the events and deaths of the past few years, my dad had been a steady source of support.  Even with his life falling apart, he found time and compassion to support me.  

See, I met my dad when I was 8.  My biological father was a mess.  More gone then around. Never consistent.  My dad though was consistent and kind. He never wavered.  A lighthouse for my adventures of life.  I could never get lost with his guiding light. 

The last year he has been a model of courage and bravery in the face of a nightmare.  My mother made decisions and took what not was hers.  She also made it look like my father knew of her deception. He did not.  I know that for a fact because I was there with him when he found out the full extent of what she did.  He was crushed.  

He ended up in the hospital for almost two weeks from the stress. 

He was sentenced and incarcerated to serve a sentence that was properly my mother’s.  He did not shy away from the consequence.  He faced it with dignity and strength. 

I watched him struggle to walk into the prison with a walker. He said at breakfast that morning he couldn’t come home until he started servicing his sentence. So he went early.  

He was assured by the everyone the prison could handle his problems. He was guaranteed.  

He was a kind and gentle man who would help anyone. He adopted five children, had two biological children, fostered children, and raised my brother and me.  

Even the last two weeks of his life he was trying to write letters to the people who didn’t abandon him and ask them about their lives and how things were going. 

He didn’t deserve to beg for care.  He didn’t deserve to be threatened to be thrown in solitary because he was sick. 

The last time I talked to him was horrible. He couldn’t breath, he sounded so sick. The doctor said he just needed to get his act together because they weren’t sending him anywhere.  He had a sore on his foot to his bone. 

He was terrified and scared.  My strong father was terrified.  That’s how horrible it was for him. 

That is why I struggle because my hands were tied.  There was no one who could help him.  After 78 years of helping others, he was left to beg for mercy and none was found. 

None. 

Judge if you want, no human being deserves the treatment my father received. 

I am devastated.  

We were assured he would be taken care of and he was dead within five weeks. 

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One Comment Add yours

  1. jangled says:

    Horrific. Take it to the papers. Sue the bastards. Expose them. 💔

    Like

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