I just want to start off by saying that me talking about death and dying is by no means any indication that I’m in an extreme state of depression or contemplating killing myself or anything horrific like that. It’s just been something that’s been on my mind a lot lately, and to me, it’d be a waste to not at least address it in writing, and try and work the thoughts out and try and interpret some meaning from them.
Anyway, not to get too far into the drama between my separating parents, but there is a particular outstanding conflict that doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, and is causing a lot of angst within my immediate family. It all narrows down to my dad’s paranoia and conspiracy theories, but a new revelation learned over my last visit was the belief that he wasn’t going to live that long. He’s by no means elderly, but according to my dad, he seems to believe that he’s not going to live to the age in which his parents passed. Be it cancer or some other terminal illness, he doesn’t think he’s going to live to 80 much less 90, citing such substantial evidence as “I can feel it” and uses that as justification to hang onto the residence that’s really more than what one solitary person really needs.