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THAT'S LIFE
Our Ever Changing Lives
Dad moved slowly through the grocery store with a slight shuffle of his feet. I had become accustomed to the sound. I had gotten past my hurry, hurry mode on my days out with this eighty-eight year old man, the first man in my life. His trips out of doors had become shorter, closer to home, with only occasional drives to nearby towns to pass the time, have a change of scenery or just to lengthen our conversations.
“Dad, here are the snacks you like. How many do you want?” I grinned and made a funny face, trying to coax the sparkle that once was prevalent in his eyes. My sister and I did our best to make these times completely enjoyable. We wanted to make sure his outings were totally about him.
We finished our shopping, paid the cashier and slowly headed for the car. There was a slight chill in the air and I knew very soon Dad would mention how he wished he had worn a jacket. Once in the car, the thermostat was turned up. I made small talk and teased him about the snack parties he would revel in the rest of the week.
Making a quick turn to the right, I thought it might be interesting to extend this excursion by a few miles. I headed to a part of town where I knew Dad had lived many years ago. He had talked about this particular road and the good times he remembered having with his brothers “in this neck of the woods” as he put it.
“I have not been here in years,” he smiled, taking in all the sights. “All the buildings are gone that I remember. But look at the homes here now! Time changes everything!”
This frail, white haired man had grown up, entered the military, returned home and married his childhood sweetheart. They worked from California to Connecticut, earning enough money to buy a one hundred acre tract of land that engulfed the little homestead his family had lived on when he was a young boy. On this land, he and his lady-love had raised four children who were now scattered across the country. Holidays were special reasons for the family to gather at the home place and tell stories of hard times and fun times, like drive-in-movies and Spring festivals.
Our home had been a busy place. While Dad worked away from home, Mom kept the home fires burning, making sure there was time for gathering vegetables, growing pets, helping neighbors and of course Sunday School.
Years changed this scenario. We grew up and had children of our own. Our children grew up and suddenly, it seemed, grandchildren and great grandchildren roamed the hill Dad had purchased as a young man.
Now life was changing again. It had been three years since Mom passed away. We siblings agreed Dad would never be able to live alone. But to our amazement, he defied all expectations, learning to use the microwave and even make his own coffee. During sixty four years of marriage, he had been thoroughly pampered by the best, a Southern lady who took care of her man.
In the years since Mom’s death, Dad had put his heart and soul into the care of his flower garden, working as much as eight hours a day. His favorite words were, “If you don’t use it, you lose it.”, referring to his arthritic knees. He pruned his roses and planted day lilies. Then late in November, he fell, resulting in a pelvic fracture. He could no longer live alone. This brought change once again.
I drove to the door of the Assisted Living facility and gathered our packages. Reluctantly Dad had agreed to try this living arrangement “for a while”. He knew many of the residents that had moved in from the surrounding community. He had attended school with many of them.
We were greeted and asked about our outing, as we made our way down the hall to Dad’s apartment. I hurriedly put away Dad's snacks, combed his hair and changed his shirt for dinner. Slowly walkers and wheelchairs filled the hallway. The residents were making their way to the dining room. The smell of hot food was inviting, but Dad insisted he was not hungry. Even so, I sat beside him, encouraging one bite after another, making small talk and plans for the coming days.
Dad’s bedtime was much earlier now. The bed was inviting to this man who had succumb to the aging process. We went through his nightly routine. I could see tiredness in his eyes.
“Dad, do you know how much I love you,” I asked, as I bent over to kiss him good night.
“About as much as I love you, I hope,” he replied and I was sure I saw that slight twinkle in his eyes.
“That’s for sure,” I answered, as I turned so he could not see the start of a tear.
“Do you need another blanket? Make sure you keep this rail up.” I hugged him one more time, and then went out into the evening, knowing there were some residents in this well kept home that would not know the comfort of family tucking them in.
I never thought I’d parent my parent. Life does not afford us time to think about such things, as we fill each day with busyness, and that is good. Some things don’t need to be foretold. But for sure, each stage of life is to be savored, with lots of hugs and good night kisses, no matter the age.
Dad lived only a few months after our extended outing. I'm so glad we shared that day. Those cherished moments linger in my mind and make me smile and even start to add a sparkle to my eyes. On second thought that sparkle is a tear. Tears of saddness, but also tears of happiness that Dad knows now how much I loved him.
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"Enjoy the little things for one day you may look back and realize
they were the big things."
~ Robert Brault~
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