Worried Sick

My father is missing. His cell phone has been disconnected, and he is not answering emails.

On the one hand, I know I should not be overly concerned. Dad has taken off before; he usually comes back with a new girlfriend (sometimes, a new wife) that none of his children have met before. He is naturally impulsive, and will go off to Vegas or a quick trip to Florida on a moment's notice. He does not feel the need to clear his plans with anyone; never has, probably never will. He likes being mysterious and unpredictable, I think. In the past, when he's done this, he even seemed to find it amusing that I would worry. It's all a game to him.

On the other hand...my father is very, very sick. By all accounts, he's living on borrowed time. He should've been dead long ago, but he's succeeded in being a medical mystery as well. And it ISN'T like him to disconnect his cell phone...not answer it, sure. Let the voice mail clog up, absolutely. But disconnect it? No. And he loves the Internet...unless he's pissed off at me and hasn't bothered telling me why as of yet (which is entirely plausible), I can't see why he wouldn't answer my repeated emails.

And then there's the voice mail message I got from him last week. He spoke of being unable to work, and wishing he'd taken me up on my offer to live here, with me. He sounded depressed. He sounded drunk, to be completely frank. He left no number to reach him.

And so, as usual, I don't know how to feel when it comes to dear old Dad. Our entire relationship is a contradiction in terms: we are opposites, we do not get along, and yet we are father and daughter and we love one another. The more I try to get close to him, the more he seems to resent it and turns away, preferring instead the company of my sister and brother, who exist only to treat him like dirt and steal as much money as they can before the old man kicks off.

I'm worried sick, and at the same time, wary of being worried, because so often he's done these things only TO worry me, and then laugh at me for being such a soft spot. Or berate me for treating him "like a child," who doesn't have the right to take off to play the slots anytime he chooses. He has a point there, of course. Not to excuse his behavior....

Prayers appreciated, of course. Pray that he is ok and (relatively) sober. And that he'll contact me or my sane sister, by some means, and let us know he's alive and well.

Oy vey.