My father and I never had a parent/child relationship, not even when I was a child. I had an extremely complicated relationship with both of my parents, resulting in me going completely NC with both of them in 2003.

Fast forward to 2006, I was contacted by my father's landlord and his next door neighbor -- they told me that my mother had left him and he was in a bad way. Mind you, he hadn't spoken to me in three years, at that point. What I should have done was tell all of them to fuck all the way off. What I actually did was allow myself to be guilted into taking care of my father for the next 15 years.

My father had brain damage from a childhood injury, he was also functionally illiterate. He had the mental capacity of an eight year old child. My parents were married 35 years (+/-) when my mother moved out, took all of the furniture out of their apartment, took every dime they had in their bank accounts, and left him completely destitute. His landlord was handling his finances and robbing him blind.

When I stepped back into the picture, my father was living in a two room apartment, with no furniture, and had a box spring balanced across four dining chairs that he was using for a bed. The first time my husband and I set foot in his apartment, he had no food at all. He had been living off of convenience store sandwiches for over a year. He had just enough money in his bank account to keep the account open. His landlord was giving him $100/month from his disability check and keeping the rest to "pay his bills".

So, I took over his finances, moved him into a decent apartment, and got him back on his feet.

In 2015, my husband and I moved him into our house. We gave him the entire attic to live in, full use of our kitchen, and laundry machines. He had no bills, didn't have to buy his own food, and my husband drove him anywhere he needed to go. He gave me $500/month to live in my house. I bought his food, made sure he had clothing and shoes, scheduled his doctor's appointments and went with him to every appointment.

I was basically living his life for him.

In return, he made our lives a living hell.

Having him living with us was all fine and good for about two years. When it went bad, it went bad in a hurry. And to this day, I couldn't tell you what exactly that the turning point was. We had an argument one day, that he instigated, and it was all downhill from there.

My father and my husband didn't speak a single word to each other for two years. My father started referring to my husband as "Hitler" on a regular basis. That's when my husband told me that, if I didn't get my father out of the house, he was going to file for divorce and move out.

It took another year and a half to get him out of my house. I even got the Office of Aging involved, which, unbelievably, just made the situation worse. The rep from the OOA told my father that he had to move out of my house because he was being abusive to me and my family. He told him that after I specifically and adamantly told him not to do that until I actually had a place for my father to move to. After the OOA rep made the situation 1000 times worse than it already was, he stopped taking and returning my calls.

I was so stressed out that my hair was falling out, I'd lost so much weight that my co-workers thought I had cancer, I was in tears every single day. My father and I were literally having hours long screaming fights with each other every day. He threatened to hit me, at one point. I told him to go ahead and do it so I could have him arrested and get him out of my house.

I finally found an apartment for him and moved him out. Three weeks later, he had a bowel rupture and spent 2+ weeks in intensive care. He somehow pulled through and was more hateful and mean than ever.

We were barely on speaking terms after that, even though I was still handling his finances.

I found him dead in his apartment on June 19, 2021. He had refused all medical treatment about a year prior and stopped taking his meds about six months prior. He basically committed a very slow suicide.

His death came as a huge relief to me.