I am currently in therapy/doing battle with my depression. Sometimes I feel like I am winning and other times not. Lately I feel like I’m losing.
The title of this blog is from something that my three year old son said to me, “wait for me dad”. It was then that I realized I was walking too fast for his short legs to keep up even if he was running. But in fact it was me that was running away from the pain of my past. When he said that I remembered looking at my dad’s back as we walked along the lonely beach on the Northumberland Straight. He didn’t wait for me either.
When I was sixteen on a cold day in February he left this worldly plain by gassing himself on the exhaust of his emerald green Dodge Dart.
This is my story about how I am trying to put back the pieces of this broken man. It’s been thirty five years since dad died – I”ve spent the last two years trying to figure out what happened this site is my story. The previous thirty three years I spend running – I’m trying to slow down so that my son can catch up with me.