Ten years ago this week we had a memorial service for my father, he was 51. I bought his house from him and worked two jobs so that he could live peacefully in Florida while he tried to recover. At this time, I thought he was recovering from colon cancer, but that wasn’t the case. He was hiding an opioid addiction. He didn’t have health insurance and I didn’t want to lose the only stable house that was in my unstable life. So I took the house from him, refinanced and gave him the money. He moved to Florida. I also hired a lawyer who got him disability payments and Medicare. I was 24 and I was working two jobs and now I was a homeowner and landlord.
Even though he wasn’t the best dad he was my dad. I couldn’t just sit back. I lost years of my life as a homeowner and landlord. I would lay in bed with pains in my stomach as I awaited the next issue with the tenants. People accused me of taking money from him, but there was no profit. The tenants payment barely paid half of my mortgage. I convinced my sister to move back in with me. This house was so important. My grandparents had it built after World War II. They received a military discount. It was the only constant in my life-this house. So, I was saving my childhood too.
You Only Need You 