Write emotion. The Right emotion.

They say that you need to dare to write raw things and in the spirit of that, I will share what I wrote this morning.

Someday, this story will go in my memoir and it will begin: "The day my father self-medicated by pouring chemicals on his head was the same day a sixty foot statue of Jesus caught on fire and burned to the ground 30 miles from his house."

but for today, all I have is this:
The hardest part might be the fact that my dad poured chemicals on his head in an attempt to get rid of bugs that may or may not be ailing him.
The hardest part might be that no one has or can stop him from such detrimental behavior.
The hardest part could very well be that he has stopped taking his medication—a sort of mental health maintenance drug that keeps his emotions stable—and no one can say anything because he is a mental health professional. He thinks he knows better. He should know better.
The hardest part might be that he is so terribly alone in this. Or it might be that I am allowing him to be alone in this because I can’t possibly think of a way to help.
But the hardest part is probably that I didn’t get the phone call. That my phone had slid between the seat of my car and the console and I didn’t exert the energy to find it before bed so that when the call came at midnight I might have actually answered…
Or
It could very well be—and I think this is it—that while he called me I was dreaming of his house caving in, of all of the dust covered newspapers and coffee stained dishes and hair covered couches just collapsing into the earth.
From what once was a home—ashes and dust. That’s the hardest part.