Epic Fail and The Road Less Traveled

I did it.  I called my Dad and asked him to move in with me.  Although I'll be relieved to have my Dad near again (to keep an eye on him as he's getting on in age), I can't help but feel that I've somehow failed epically.  Everything's changing, faster than my feeble mind and heart can process.  She's moving out and moving on, and I'm at a standstill, trying to pick up the pieces.  She says she'll still be there to support me, financially or otherwise, but how can I trust that she will after all that's happened?  How can I trust her when not long ago, she promised to love me unconditionally and vowed to be at my side till the very end?  I should have known it was all a ruse...And now I'm burdened and encumbered with the weight of her decision, my resignation, and our mutual understanding.  My high pride refuses to show more, feel more than what I'm truly enduring inside.  At the very least, my dignity is still in tact...right?

Anyway, I digress.  I asked my Dad to move in because...I can't survive on my income alone.  Not with the mortgage and utilities that I'll be responsible for after she leaves.  Although she insists that I have nothing to worry about because she'll assist me financially until who knows when, I can't rely on her promises, on her words, on her.  Hence, my decision to ask my Dad to move up.  I never planned on this, believing we'd somehow make our relationship work and remain together until our last breath, but it's something that I have to do.  I need help, and I must not feel guilty or embarrassed in asking for it.  Sigh.

At least my Dad's happy.  He wants to move up, but I fear it's for other reasons (i.e., gambling and free beer).  I want to laugh, but I know I'll start crying if I do.  This is all so foreign to me, the break up, loneliness, and shattered pieces of the past seven years scattered at my feet, and I'm absolutely scared out of my wits.  This road I'm on is dark and lonely, the air around me dense and filled with shadows, and I want so much to turn and run back to the fork in the road I passed a while back.  To run after her and beg her to stay.  To hold on to something that is familiar and safe, even if it would mean settling and sacrificing my self yet again.  Even if it meant going back to those empty eyes staring back at me and the intimate, loving touch I know will never come again.  Sigh.

I can't.  I won't.  She's made up her mind, and so have I.  We can't go back, not now and maybe not ever.  I am saddened by this knowledge, but there is nothing that I can do to change what is and what can never be.  I'm on this road alone, and I must accept my fate.  I simply must.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. 

- "The Road Not Taken" by Robert Frost

The road ahead is daunting, but I must keep pressing onward.  Maybe someday, everything will make sense.