Thursday, November 9, 2006

Dad says........

Dad says, "I didn't think you'd come so late."   I got his groceries at lunchtime, not enough time to drop them off until night.  M is in the car reading; I tell him she's asleep so he doesn't feel badly as she doesn't wish to come in.   (He may ask her the same question over and over, the same questions as last time, or smell badly, she feels uneasy around him.)   She'd be reading at home, too, it's schoolwork.   Too much schoolwork.   She's in a good mood, though, we got in a nice talk again on the ride from dancecarpooling (Bob took her there yesterday, my mom sounding MUCH better, but best to have Bob this week).
Dad says there's no light (for the outside light), but I see a bulb and put it in.
Dad says, a bit anxiously, "I can't pay you for these."   "I know that, Dad."   He remembers he has $10. left in his account, but not that I'm the one who figured it out for him.   "I'll pay you when I get paid again, you know I don't get my social security money until the (day of month)."  "It's okay, Dad."
Dad says, "The valve is downstairs in the basement.   You can't do that, it'd turn off all the water in the house."
Dad says, "Doug didn't look at it," re: the clogged toilet.  UGH.  I can't unclog it myself.....   Dad says, "I didn't ask him about it," for other items.   Like clipping Dad's nails which somehow have grown a ton in a short time.   I dump the pot of water into the sink, couldn't Doug have seen that filling up overflowing onto the kitchen floor?   It didn't used to drip constantly, see, and Doug didn't realize that's what I meant now, but he put in new light bulbs in the kitchen.   I know Doug couldn't see the newspapers at the end of the driveway, so I brought those in, soaked in the rain which Dad lays out to dry, and his latest mail.   The leak doesn't bother Dad somehow.
Dad says his stove doesn't work.  Huh?  Since when?  I will check the burners when I go Friday, bring matches.   I didn't know what I'd do for certain on my day off of work, but it seems too obvious now, as M has school.   I'd asked him if he has a tea kettle, thinking he could use it for his instant coffee.   Dad says he puts his coffee cup in the oven.  Oy.   These don't bother him.
Dad asks, "Did you call the mortgage company?   I have written down, here, take this," his fingers pointing to dates scrawled on a paper as to when he'd sent checks in and when they've cleared based on his bank statements he's looked over and which are laying there as well.   This is very lucid and organized of him, his accountant days showing forth.   I retell him that it's okay now, that his October check DID clear, that he's caught up to date.   He holds out the paper he's worked hard to prepare, so I take it anyway, telling him I'll call them.   Dad says what I'm thinking, that neither of us understand why a company would say they're going after a foreclosure for missing one solitary payment, and yet also cashing the supposedly missed payment.
Dad says, "No one visits me, I'll change later.  I'm fine."   Both his children visiting in one day, he's worn out, yet, he had that shirt on the other day, also.   He WILL have people coming in for the plumbing, but I don't press it right now.  
Dad says, "Here are $3."   He points to three dollar bills on the table by the couch where he sits.   He usually keeps his cash on top of the piano, right now it's less than $10. cash in dollar bills I know, so he'd planned this.   "I want you to get a bottle of this aspirin for your mother.  Didn't she have a heart attack?"   This is the lower-dosage aspirin Bayer with calcium that he's been taking, and he has me take when I visit, too:)   And, I do.   "Didn't you say they gave her an aspirin?"   Well, she didn't have a heart attack, her siblings have, but they did give Mom aspirin and other medicine when in the ER last Friday.   I try to figure out how to spin this for my mother.   Dad means no romance by it, it's just because he thinks it'd help, and he cares about me, and holds no hard feelings for my mother.  His world of people is so small now.
"Here, take this $3., I want you to buy this for your mother."


  1. Very nice and sad.  It must be rough to lose your ability to be in charge of your day to day activities.  ~ Mike

  2. I find it a very touching gesture on your dad's part. Those moments of interaction he has with his small circle of family must be incredibly precious, at least, they would be to me.