Long text incoming...I don't really care if anyone reads it or chooses to reply, I just felt I wanted to put it into words.

Well then. I have a dad...I mean, everyone does, obviously. He's in his sixties and...spent most of his life as a sailor. A sea captain, a deckhand, any work available. I remember how I always looked forward to his return as a kid and how he brought me toys from faraway lands. Eventually his health got worse. He worked for a short time as a ship cook and then in some factory in Scottland before returning to his home, Estonia. There he spent some time as a security worker, until...about two years ago, I reckon, he had a stroke. After that he was not the same. Do you know of the uncanny valley effect? That if something looks very closely, but not perfectly like a human it causes revulsion in observers? That's more or less what I felt, only instead of the subject being a robot or a 3D animation it was my father. It felt as if a doppelganger had entered our home, a caricature of a man. One that looks like my father, has a voice like my father but is really an imitation, a concentration of his most prominent characteristics. His voice was stuttering, he had a difficulty with numbers. Limping. He became incredibly stubborn and occasionally agressive. Obsessed with our electric bill and money in general, while not having a real understanding of it's value anymore. So I started to avoid him, because frankly the way how he was still my father but didn't quite act like it felt incredibly creepy for me. At spring, during Survival Celebration (around the time Fantine started to show her symptoms), he had his second stroke. I'd been skipping school that day and woke up to find him on the floor behind my bedroom door. Apparently he had collapsed in the kitchen and crawled through the hallway. The worst part is, that when I woke up he'd been there for a while already. I don't know how long - 3 minutes? 20 minutes? The worst part is that I remember hearing someone calling me through my sleep but since it didn't resemble anyone's voice I knew I figured it was part of the dream and slept on. It took me a while to wake up and realize ''Oh shit, that sounds a bit like my father.'' Anyway, yes. I called the ambulance, he was taken away. The doctors figured he'd probably be bedridden for the rest of his life but about two weeks afterwards he was walking around his ward. When I saw him again the uncanny valley effect was gone. I just...saw an old man, with bloodshot eyes and gray hair and I felt so sorry for him and so ashamed I hadn't been nicer to him this past year. His likeness to a caricature was even more pronounced - a copy of a copy. His short-term memory was all but gone, though it returned eventually. He was at first somewhat obsessed with the placement of his things. I had to show him about five times...where his medication was, where are the glasses, where are the reading glasses, where are his clothes, where's the radio and the cellphone. Mainly he had problems with short-term memory. And self-control. Threw us with things when we hadn't been able to locate some item he had requested, cursed and yelled and afterwards barely remembered anything had happened. His coordination and speech was also...defective. His voice sounded different. Raspier, wooden.He still has trouble talking and he keeps using the wrong syllables, wrong words. Ship-related terminology, for example. He still keeps calling a hospital ward (''palat'' in estonian) a cabin (''kajut'') when he's not thinking about it.

Right now he's back at home. The short-term memory has become better as well. It only becomes apparent that something is wrong from the way he forgets the lights on or to turn the stove off. And I've started to avoid him again. And I feel bad about it. I just can't force myself to be with him. He's grumpy, he's verbally abusive, stubborn and short-tempered. I know it's not his fault and that these two stokres have altered his mind. He was recently in a hospital due to ''having difficulty breathing'' (whether it's lung-related or heart-related is unclear to me) and is convinced that he's going to die soon. Infact whenever he's not yelling or complaining about his health he's reminiscing...which isn't so bad, except that it makes me feel so...sad for him. Reminiscing or talking about death. The graves of his parents. Berating me for having ''so little interest'' in my paternal bloodline. He gave me the photos of his mother's (my grandmothers) funeral and told me to burn them. I put them on the shelf.

And thus I avoid him...I know that he's probably depressed and most likely afraid. And lonely. And not feeling good. And that makes me feel even worse for not enjoying his company or wanting to spend any time with him. It's just...awkward. To be in the company of so much passive-agressiveness and so much...melancholy...cradled in the body of a former mighty sea captain. His company makes me sad, thoughtful or occasionally irritated. Mostly it's just awkward. I don't know what to say. We have nothing, nothing in common. I have no social life, or else I'd talk about it with him and he only has his one thousand and one illnesses, memories of Angola, Sweden, Japan, South-Korea, and thoughts about the graves of his dead parents. He reminds us all that when he dies he wants to be buried next to them. And whenever he's in a better mood and talks about the future I can't look him in the eye, because I'm bad at lying and I honestly believe he won't last for more than a year. Two strokes, bad lungs, bad heart, diabetes, serious sleep apnea...he can't work, he can't enjoy life...all he has is us...and I feel guilty for not being supportive to him nor cheering him up before he leaves because I'm too fucking weak to look at this shattered human being. A terrible daughter, a selfish, horrible human being. And frankly, I'm afraid as well. The only death I've experienced was that of our dog, which happened a few years before. Apart from that I've grown up without knowing grief - all of my grand parents died before I was born, all of my relatives were at a good health. And what makes me feel especially bad is that...I think I'm not particularily afraid of him passing away. I'm afraid of finding him dead. I'm afraid of his dead body staying undiscovered due to my own negligence and avoidance. I'm afraid of feeling responsible for a death and I'm afraid of guilt...and just...I don't know if it's normal. Basically I feel angry at myself and guilty for finding him a grumpy old man and a nuisance when obviously it's not his fault and I really do love my father a lot it's just that this man, after these two strokes, acts almost nothing like my father did. It's scary to think...that...well, I've already compared the effects a stroke has on a person's character with drawing a caricature and how, after two strokes, my dad is like a caricature of a caricature? A caricature is made by exaggerating a person't most prominent features...it's scary to think that after everything else is stripped off only stubborness, sadness and anger remain in him. I think I'm rambling here. Sorry about that. Anyway, yes...even though I've written so much I don't feel as if I've gotten the point across. Still. Even if nobody replies atleast I've gotten it out of myself.

It is difficult for everyone to watch someone they loved wither away. It's hard to imagine that a person who was so strong and vibrant, a real symbol in your life, can suddenly turn weak and fragile. As difficult as it is, you need to move past your own discomfort, to be with him. Your time with your loved ones is always precious, but now especially, he needs you. And you need to not be so serious around him. That just makes it worse. Try and inject some humor into both your lives. It's surprising but humor helps with everything. It's healing, it's a connection, and it can help deal with deterioration and death. If you can learn to laugh with him you two can build a connection again off that. Don't treat him like a stroke victim who has lost his light, treat him like you treated him before. It is never a great feeling when you aren't yourself to have everyone else around you punctuate that by them treating you like you aren't yourself. Stop looking at him like a caricature and look at him like a human being. Don't pity him, he doesn't need it. Talk to him about everything and anything. Get his opinion on lots of things. Pick up a hilarious movie, put it on. Start some sort of project like a puzzle, even if he just watches and helps you pinpoint the location of a piece. Involvement will help him as much as it will help you. You can alleviate both of your suffering by finding a new relationship with him.

Nightingale is right Cli, it's painful, it tears at your heart and rips you from the inside out. My Papa suffered 2 horrible heartattacks, and I had to watch as the rough and tumble man who could do anything, the image of a real cowboy who could keep a whole ranch working like a well oiled tractor, turn into this shell of a man. He was stuck in his chair, miserable and growling, like a chained up toothless lion.

It hurt, it tore me apart to see this man I saw as my own personal John Wayne turn into a sad old man. I think it killed my granny even more to watch him go downhill, while also having to take care of her aging mother, who was going out of her mind with dementia.

And she's right that you need to push yourself to be with him. If not for yourself, for him. He doesn't want pity or guilt, but he wants to know someone's there. You said you liked to listen to his stories of other places; as hard as it might be for you, that might be something you can connect with him on. I would ask my Papa to tell me his funny stories, his favorite stories, anything and everything he could remember. I watched his favorite movies with him, and watched our favorite cartoons together. And on his last Christmas he got me a horse like he had always wanted to give me. He lasted about a a month or two after that.

Right after that, not even a year, my grandmother (not granny, mother's mother) was diagnosed with colon cancer. I stayed with her as much as I could, and my mother pretty much lived at the hospital with her. I would watch soaps with her and we'd talk about her stories and I helped record all the recipes she could remember. She helped me with my sewing and my homework, she was the best teacher ever, aside from my mom, and she could cook like no-one's business. She lived for 6 months and left with a smile.

Some years past until about 2008, when my Granny had to move my Great grandmother into a hospice because Granny had to work and couldn't be around all the time to watch after her. Granny Daisy (my great-grandmother) was so far gone with dementia then that sometimes she couldn't even remember if she'd eaten or taken her medicine. I never really knew her that well, but in what time I did have with her, I had fun with her. She was never very nice with my Granny, but my Granny took care of her, despite all the verbal abuse and anger that her mother threw at her. Granny Daisy hated my Granny all through her childhood, and slathered love all over her other daughter, and yet Granny was the one to care for her while her youngest daughter wasn't even at her funeral.

It's hard, but you need to push past the discomfort and open yourself to him. Try to reminisce with him, listen to his stories so you can remember them to pass on. Watch movies, shows, try things he likes. Rather than live in guilt for the rest of your life, push past your own discomfort and build a relationship you'll come to cherish from years to come, and let him go knowing that he has someone there for him. You have no idea how much it means to someone in such a time, to not be alone when you feel so lost and alone. It will also help you through the days when you feel just as lost and alone.

So try to build your relationship with him, it will really make you feel good in the end.

My dad is also a stroke victim and a doting father (well, at least when I was young). I watched his personality change overnight, from arrogant and stubborn to timid and quiet. Not quite friendly, but in a pitiful kind of way, like a puppy. It really was hard to come to terms with his situation, but I can't agree any more with Nightingale and 13thMaiden. It was hard for me not to want to pity him because it's a natural reaction, but it's for the best that I didn't. For my dad, pity only made him acknowledge his helplessness even more. I hadn't seen him cry once in my entire life until after his first stroke, but he started crying very often. It also made him become more dependent on others, and he started settling into complacency instead of trying his best to regain any abilities. It was hard to see this happen - he was basically telling us that he'd given up on his life. So my mom and I stopped the pity... and it worked. He is now doing what he can to recover.

I'd suggest not avoiding your father, unless you're unable to handle the emotional stress. If you find that you can't bring yourself to see him, then do give yourself some time (just not too long). After I called the ambulance when he had his second stroke, they transported him to the hospital and I didn't see him for a full week. In that amount of time, I did my best to distract myself from the situation, because the most important thing is that worrying about it won't make a good difference on what's happening. Maybe you can take up community service projects or a hobby or help around the house, but do something and have fun. I think it'll help you backtrack and reassess how you feel about your dad... by then, you'll be able to build your relationship with him. Don't worry if you start to cry, it's expected even after you're ready.

Believe in your dad, because after two strokes, bad lungs, bad heart, diabetes, and serious sleep apnea, he's still here and breathing. That definitely says something about him!

I can't say that I already had this situation, but I can imagine at least a little bit how you feel. My grandfather lives with my family, and he's basically a nice man, he's over 90 now and for his age, he's in surprisingly good shape. But he does things that really annoy me (not important here), and whenever I'm annoyed, I directly start to feel guilty because he's my grandfather, he doesn't mean it in a bad way, and man, he's that old, I guess some habits just stick. I still can't NOT be annoyed sometimes and it's... arghh. I'm sorry for your dad, I guess you suspected that, so I'll get to what I thought of now. I reflected a bit upon what you could do, and how, and I came up with an idea: what if you took an hour each day, a certain, special hour, in which you care for your dad, sit with him, talk to him, look at photos, or let him tell you about his life? I guess ( I do not know but I guess) that you'd get used to his state a bit better if you actually, consciously dealt with it everyday, but you can also retire anytime else without feeling too guilty. I don't think it matters if you are with him for one hour or two, but it counts that it's everyday. Like practicing an instrument. No one says you have to get along with him from morning to late night, but you could try a little bit. What do you think?