My father is now 80 years old.  I found out this morning that he is in the hospital, tests are being run to determine the cause of his latest ailment.   It is odd to think that this man, who had used his physical presence to intimidate me when I was a kid,  is so fragile now.   It’s been some 20 years since I’d last seen my parents, and there are no future plans to reunite.

Both mom and dad will die soon enough, but I will not lament the loss.   They were not the best of parents, to put it lightly, and so, if I am to lament anything, it would be that I was never afforded the opportunity to grow up in a healthy family.

Some people will say that I had a good father because he put clothes on my back and food in my stomach, but it takes much more than that to be a good parent.  People who don’t understand that scare me.

I just wish I could rid myself of the memory of my parents abusiveness.  It is a tumor on my brain that clouds my thinking.


About Kevin Barbieux

I have been diagnosed as being chronically homeless. I write about my experiences and opinions of being homeless
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