Times Are Tough

End Elderly Abuse

Jack ParkinsonSince Jack Parkinson passed away, things have been crazy. I finally stopped crying over losing him, but it still does not seem real. I have his ashes sitting in my home, so I know that he isn’t coming back, but I still randomly think I wish someone would pinch me and wake me up from the nightmare. It hurts to not have him here with me. My dad drove me nuts for nearly 5 years. We had our ups and downs. We had our times of laughter and of anger.

Missing My Dad

At times I was so completely done fighting with him that I’d swear I wouldn’t spend another day trying to help him. But now, I’d give anything to talk to him for a few more minutes. I wish I could go back to the Tuesday before he passed away when in the car, we rode mostly in silence and then I rushed off that evening possibly without saying I love you. I’d go back and make sure that I told him I loved him. I’d go back and talk to him more that day. We were both preoccupied. I’d talk to him more once we got back to his house about the things he wanted to do once the property was returned to him. Hell, if I could go back to the Wednesday before he died; I’d go to his house and spend even more time talking to him.Jack Parkinson, Elderly Abuse

There are no takebacks, though. I cannot travel through time and make things right. I cannot say all that I want to say. I cannot go back and take more photos of him – just so I’d have them. It is not fair, but it is the way life works. It was NOT his time to go yet. God should have let him stay here for a little while longer. His great-grandchild loved him and so did everyone else he knew, but his great grand will not remember him. He should have had the chance to remember him.

The Price of Elder Abuse

Pat Parkinson
Missing Dad Makes Me Miss Mom More As Well

There is no doubt in my mind that the elderly abuse he suffered at the hands of the family is what ended his life. He wasn’t allowed to stay in a nursing home after surgery because he had no property. He wasn’t able to remember his medications, even though I laid them out in his pill container weekly. He wasn’t ready to function at home alone, but I was removed from the property. Part of me feels that because I told his brother that I’d move in with dad when he got home if he needed me to, was part of the reason that they attempted to kick him off the property. As far as I’m concerned, his death is on their hands. The sad part is; they will never face a murder charge. They will never face jail time for killing him. They will never suffer what he suffered and they will never lay in a bed for 24 hours after they have passed on; because no one cared enough to watch over him, except Allen and I and we were sent away from there to live in another county 40 miles away. Where is the justice for my dad?