Sadness

Today I visited my dad. I absolutely adore him but he's got a terrible problem. He's a hoarder and he's getting worse. My childhood home is unrecognisable. I can hardly get in the door, the dishwasher and oven can't open because there are piles of stuff blocking them shut. Every single room is so crammed full of possessions they reach from the floor to the ceiling. He won't talk about Christmas and I simply don't know what to do.
He has a poster propped up on a stack of wood, it says: God put me on earth to do certain jobs, right now I'm so far behind I'll never die.

At least he's got a good sense of humour. Mine is fading fast.