At the end of the show

It's hard to watch your Father get old.

Rough to recognize a lifetime of choices and achievement like a dark storm hanging over his head.

It's hard to look at the bed he's made... I mean that figuratively and literally.

I came into this place prepared to wrestle a man into rehab.... at any cost. Not take no for an answer. Demand a detox. Institutionalize.

"I flew in from LA... Godammit."

Surpise. Not that easy. This is tricky. Torrentially Tricky.

For a man with layers and layers of complex issues, such is the remedy.

I cant commit a sane man against his will. You just cant do that. But I figured if I could separate him from his alcohol and the negative influences that surround him, I could sober him up enough to have a few reasonable conversations and try to build from there.

Sunday he had 3 beers. No hard alcohol. We watched football.

Today was Day 3 with no drinks at all. It was a very dry Wednesday.

We actually got a lot accomplished.

We met with a few doctors. We wrangled up a few documents. We stopped to go to the bathroom... and then we stopped again. We paid the balances on deliquent bills. We got locks taken off of storage spaces so we could rummage through moldy old leather coats and sweaters. We had lunch at Chili's.

We shot the shit a LOT while we shuffled around town. We shot the shit and then we'd scream and shout, curse each other out.

Things that needed to be talked about... and plenty of things we could have done without... but thats my Dad.

We've had plenty of time to talk. All week. We've talked about life. We've waxed Wine, Woman, Work and of course, War.

The past few days, I've been able to walk in his shoes.... minus the booze. I've seen a lot of improvement. I see some promise.

I've met a handful of his friends... and acquaintances.... and I cant say I feel any better about his situation.

We got a lot done, it might be Saturday... or Sunday, before we are back to square one.

I love my Dad with every ounce of my heart and soul,

I treasure the time we spend together. I treasure every moment we can get together, however trying and exhausting.

But these days I cant help but wonder if this is the last time.

(Although I have a feeling he's going to stick around a while. He is a one strong and stubborn son-of-a-bitch)

This job is not done. We've got our work cut out for us. There's no guarantee of any semblance of success.

It might all be for naught. Food for thought.

That being said...  I can't wait to get the fuck out of here.

This cold, broken town off Long Island Sound.

I want to go home and hug my wife. Tell her how much I love and appreciate her... and never let her go.

Because life can be very dark and lonely at the end of a long road of wrong turns and reckless behavior.

It's always raining here... and the lights are low....

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