Visit

For a long time now, with a few exceptions, Sundays are the day we visit the immediate family for breakfast and catching up. More recently, it's been the day we go to Mom & Dad's and do what needs to be done.  But now, with Mom gone, there is much less to do; it's more a true visit than a chore detail. Dad's pills are easy, and there is a lot less trash and recycling without the dialysis process. There are still some household things that we can do to help, but overall less time is spent on tasks and more can be spent on visiting.

Today was such a day. Once I had sorted through the mail, The Boy and I had loaded up the dialysis supplies we can donate for training purposes, and I looked over the grocery list, our work was done.

While we were in Mom's room, boxing up supplies to be donated, Dad came in and saw me looking in the closet, where of course her clothes still hang.  

"What are you doing with the clothes?"  he asks.

We have agreed to let him be our guide on how fast we move on making changes around the house.  It's all about him now, for a change. "Well, I guess we'll gather them up and donate them, if that's okay with you."  He nods.  "Is there anything you'd want us not to donate?" 

"No. I can't think of anything," he says.

"It won't be today, there's time to decide," I tell him. After a moment I ask "Dad, do you think you would want to move into this room? You'd have the little bathroom so handy that way."

"No. No, I'm fine where I am, stumbling down the hall at night," he laughs.

We continue moving stuff out, but I find myself wondering that he seems so ready to have us clean out her clothes, her room. Does he see things more like we do, practical tasks that need to be addressed, emotions safely tucked away?  Or is it that these things are painful reminders to him that she's gone?  He might not know himself, and I don't need to know so badly as to make him analyze it to satisfy my curiosity.

In the dining room, more supplies...and the inevitable trail of clutter Mom left in her wake.  Dad points at a dialysate box full of plastic containers and lids. "You need those?" he asks me.

"No, I have plenty. Don't you need those?"  

He shakes his head.  "I don't think so, toss 'em out."

I look through the box, think about it.  His regular caregiver is away for the weekend and she might know why they are in a box in the dining room.  "Dad, let's wait until Bev comes back and ask her, okay?"  He's agreeable. He likes Beverley, relies on her and more importantly trusts her. If she tells him those containers are needed, they'll be kept.  He spots something else.  "Do you need that foil pan?"  I look where he's pointing. A foil pan with a sheet of aluminum foil in it, sitting on a side table for reasons we will likely never know.  

"No, I don't need it. Should I toss it?"

"Yup! Toss anything we don't need!"  He looks around, pointing now at the window air conditioners on their dollies where the boys put them after taking them out.  "Do those need to be in here?"

"For now, I think so, Dad.  There isn't any room in the closets and they are too hard to take up and down to the basement.  Maybe when we get things cleaned up a little we can put them somewhere else.  Would you want us to put the dining room back the way it should be?"

He considers.  "I don't care. Either way is fine with me."

I decide to ask him again about the master bedroom.  "Are you sure you don't want to move into the back bedroom with the bathroom?"  He doesn't hesitate, shakes his head no.

"Would you be okay if we offered to let Bev use it? If you don't want us to offer, we won't it's...."  and before I can finish with "up to you." he pounces on the idea.

"That's a great idea! Then she could have her own little bathroom!"

"Okay, then, if you're sure we'll see if she wants to do that."

He notices something else, the double bed we took out of the master bedroom when we thought Mom would come home and need the hospital bed.  "What about that?"

"We'll put that in the back bedroom once we take the hospital bed out."  He nods.

"What are you going to do with those wooden blinds?"

"What wooden...Oh!  No, those are the slats for that bed. Those will go when we set that up."

I have a feeling he could stand there all day, finding things that don't belong and asking about them, so I tell him "We'll get things all sorted out Dad, it just won't all be at once. A little at a time, there's no hurry."  He nods, satisfied, and we go sit in the living room to visit.

We brought the pup and so my cousin came over with her new puppy for a play date. Dad was delighted to see the dogs, and we all sat and chatted while the puppies got to know each other.  Eventually, we all get up to leave. There are still many things to be done, but not at Dad's house.  He asks several times what day they will go to the senior center the coming week, and I tell him. I add another visit the following week to their calendar, show him where I wrote when the bus comes and we talk about the band that will be playing there next week, and how I'm sending him the following week for Wii bowling. He smiles, remembering playing that with The Boy and he enjoyed it.  He asks again when Bev is coming "home"...he isn't fond of the substitute.  Finally he says, "What else do you have to do today?"

"Rhea has her first obedience class at 2 today, and before that I need to cut back some stuff in the garden before the rain."

"Can I help," he asks and my heart breaks a little.

"It's at my house Dad, or I'd put you right to work."  His face falls a little. I make a note that I need to have him and Bev come up for a visit before the weather turns. He'd like that.

We make sure he has one dollar bills for the bus fare, and that we have all the mail and the grocery list and all is as well as we can make it.  Kisses good bye and we're off.  I think I need to stop in more often...he loves a good visit.