nowhere to hide ...

I feel a little speechless, but I'm sure that will end once I start to type a few words.

Before the motorcycle accident, I would use music to hide from the problems of my world.

I don't have my music system set up yet.  I still need a few pieces.  There are so many other priorities that get attention first, that neither of us gets to play.  It's all work.

Today we deal with the electrician, carpenter, car mechanic, the person for rocks, and the security system people.  Those are just the things that I have to buzz around and watch people do.

Then there's the dogs who need serious training, Papi needing to put handles on all the doors and finish putting our security cameras through the concrete walls, and somewhere in there, I try to make a healthy meal to counter attack being in a constant sweat from running up and down stairs, and in and out of the yard all day long.

This is a typical day.

There's a reason we're both feeling stress.  This is how it has been since the day we arrived.  As soon as one thing is done, another zaps us of our energy.

After all of the above is finished, then we need to get all new shutters for our house, because the sea air has completely destroyed what is currently here, then after that is completed, we need a new roof for the house and carport.

It may seem like that is all someone else's job, but it's not really.  We are in need of constant communication with people, and mostly that's my job, because I'm the one who speaks Spanish.

So, when I look at how Papi had difficulty dealing with the stress of it all, the guilt of leaving G'ma behind and just wanting to escape reality, I can understand the 'why'.

One thing I can't understand, is people who have NEVER been in Papi's situation of leaving behind G'ma, judging him.

If they knew how much love and how many years of care he put into helping her, and just how much work it is dealing with someone with Alzheimer's, they'd shut their trap and tell Papi it is indeed time to live his life.

They add to his already debilitating guilt when they say, "How can you leave her?" making Papi feel even worse.

To all of you who would judge: walk a fucking mile in my love's shoes and you'll see.  Until then, shut your fucking traps.  She's in a care facility that cares for her WELL beyond what we could ever do for her.

We thought of kidnapping her and bringing her here, but she doesn't want to be here.  She wants to be with her church people.  So there she stays.

Anyway, yesterday seemed as though things may be getting better.

I trusted that he wasn't going to drink, but only because there was no more alcohol in the house.

We keep beer here for the workers.  Their eyes light up at the end of the day when we pass them a can.

My love got that generosity from his G'pa.  Workers get a beer at the end of their day, in a small effort to say, "Thank you," beyond the paycheck.

So, alcohol is in the house, but it's just not a good idea right now.  Papi is in a weak place.

Yesterday, the last can was distributed, and our car was taken away by the mechanic to complete the repairs.

So, I guess to be fair, it wasn't really trust that had me relaxed yesterday, it was more like we were stranded and there was no mischief for him to get into.

But still, I felt lighter yesterday.

I still can't help but think the best and feel that Papi is serious when he says he 'doesn't want to be another Whitney Houston' dying by being drunk and drowning in the pool.

Since the last few days, I look at that pool and all I can see is my love, bobbing around in the floaty seat in the middle of the night, passed out with a beer cradled on his stomach.

It will take a while for that image to get out of my head.  The pool looks like the enemy right now.

That is of course, with the exception of when The Donkey goes in for a dip.

She walks right in, heads out to the middle, paddles around for a while with a massive smile on her face, then returns and sits on the top stair to chill.

Right now, it's HER pool.  I like it.  It takes away from the bad memory I see every day.

Maybe one day, there won't be any more workers in my yard, and I can enjoy the pool and make better memories for myself.

However, for right now, I look at that floaty seat and think how close I was to the possibility of losing mi esposo to alcoholism.

That disease will get you one way or another.

There is no escape.

I wish I could make some music to take myself away.

Far, far away.

i believe in my ability to unlock the way and set myself free