almost home

I'm in Detroit now. A pretty decent airport. Much nicer than LAX, which to my surprise, was probably the worst airport I've ever seen. It reminded me more of Port Authority than an airport. 

I wonder how my father is doing. I wonder if he'll even survive the length of my trip. While I was there, I constantly wondered in recent days, if he could understand anything or if he was even thinking anything at all. I think he was already gone..but it's impossible to be sure.

Over the past month, I watched the man I've been closer to than anyone else in my life wither into a skeletal embodiment of suffering before my eyes. All that seemed to be left of him was pain and confusion. It's been the most traumatic experience of my entire life. Tough for him too, I know.

When I threw the chair that broke a neighbor's window, I realized I had to call it. I didn't say goodbye to anyone. I hate goodbyes. I told my father I would be there for him. I told him that I would always be there for him, and then I left.

I want to go home, tend my garden and escape into my routines, but I know it won't be that easy.