If someone walked through the door before it all happened, they would find a clean house, not greatly tidy as I have never been a tidy person but have always known where things are.
But now, someone walking into the house would find a bedraggled man with dirty dishes. a dirty house and dirty clothes everywhere. Why?
It is not that I am lazy but my brain has decided to devote every single ounce of mental energy to rescuing my daughter and to sorting out all of this mess. Nothing else matters whatsoever. I eat when I have to to and sleep when I am tired no matter how many times of the day that is. I even wash when I have to but not as part of a routine.
What I have done is to devote my whole body to ensuring that my very ill Dad is put into the most suitable “location”, be that a mental hospital or in a home like Mum was in but not necessarily in a secure ward. I do not even know how bad my father actually is or, quite frankly, whether he is alive.
Then maybe when that is resolved, I can maybe start to rebuild my life and move from this dreadful island.
But although I have tried to do it on my own, as no one else can be bothered, as they are all interested in themselves, I do need my family’s help, especially Martin’s.
If I can get through to him, then maybe we can make proper preparations for our father, so that he can have a comfortable and safe life, if you can call what is to come, a life; I do not sadly, I have to be a realist.
Then, when Dad is cared for, we can sort out the rest, as I am quite sure that if our Dad was well, he would, deep down, not want the family to break apart but to heal; after all, he created the family trust.