this whiskey will help you forget

Forgot to call dad on his birthday. Fuck. God, I feel like a regretful nazi.
I've been out of it for the past few days. Extremely tired. Going through the motions.
This all started on Saturday.
Before going to AA's Halloween party that night, I stopped by hometown to see mom, dad and sister. I hadn't seen them for a few months so I decided to make the rounds. First stop was mom's place.
All in all it was a good visit. However, the stark realization of age and time hit me like a kick in the nuts.
Did mom look that old the last time I was here?
She told me her mom's cancer was testing her patience. She can't seem to understand why grandmother, at the age of 80, would want to put herself through chemotherapy. The treatments would cause grandmother to lose her hair, lose her energy and become very sick. Grandmother says she will do whatever it takes to prolong her life.
Mom wants to tell her, "Look, you're 80 years old. You've lived a full, long life. Why would you want to spend your remaining years in a chemo-induced agony?"
This frustration is shared by her brother (who is a deeply religious man, I might add).
I'm not afraid to die. However, most people are. Apparently this fear survives well into old age.
Grandmother has always been a faithful pentecostal believer. Fire and brimstone. Heaven. Hell. The rapture. All of that. So why would she fear death? If one is so sure of that kingdom in the sky then why fret? I don't know. I'm not here to criticize. These are simply observations.
After spending a few hours with mom I decided to see dad and sister. As soon as mom closed the door I pictured her retreating to her room, tears streaming down her cheeks. Why she would be crying I can't say for sure, but I got this feeling that that's what she did.
...
So I arrive at dad's place not knowing what to expect. Sister lives with dad and her boyfriend practically lives there as well so the whole situation is odd. I don't know what is running through sister's head, or her bloodstream for that matter.
Brad is her boyfriend's name and he seems like a nice guy. However, his t-shirt was a little interesting. It read "It's only illegal (if you get caught)." What? Are you fucking serious? I mean, you can't make this shit up. The dysfunctionality astounds me.
Everything changes when I see family dog. At 16 years old her end is near. Family dog represents the last connection to the innocence of my childhood. Before all the shit happened (the divorce), family dog was there. Stability, I guess you could call it. I don't want to imagine the despair that will fall upon sister when family dog passes. She loves (as do I) that little dog like nothing else.
So anyway, dad, dad's wife, sister, brad and I go out for supper. The waiter was a complete slag. I don't know if this guy was having a bad evening or what but he was a complete dunce. Rude...didn't give a shit...whatever. This simply added to the "Oh the hell with it" atmosphere of the entire evening.
Don't get me wrong. I enjoyed seeing my family. I always do. But the whole exercise was so draining and, to a certain extent, depressing, that I was relieved to leave. I wish it wasn't like that but it is what it is.
...
As I drove to AA's place for the Halloween gig, I wasn't sure how much fun I would have. The emotional totality of those previous hours just made me sad. I was hoping that with the combination of friends and whiskey I would be able to relax and have a good time.
I did.
Until the last hour or so.
Thanks to my neurotic mind I was able to find something from that night's festivities to be sad about. I thought about Quiz Kid Donnie Smith when, in a drunken stupor, he confesses his love and no one seems to care.
A sad, drunken bastard.
Like Bob Dylan says in "Buckets of Rain,"
"You do what you must do and you do it well..."

mc