My father doesn’t like it here. It’s a very nice place with a big beautiful kitchen and french doors in every bedroom that open to a private patio so the fresh air and sunlight can stream through. There are 2 sitting areas for families, one with books and magazines and the other with a T.V., movies, and games. We can even cook there if we want to. I don’t want to. The staff is warm and kind, and it’s obvious they go to great lengths to ensure the best possible experience considering the dire circumstances of the families who visit.
We met “Tank,” a handsome long-haired shepherd who’s very good at lifting spirits as only a canine can. A lady who’s been playing the harp for 37 years asked if we’d like her to play some songs. One of my mom’s choices was “Moon River”. She said they used to dance to it all the time. We all cried even more.
In the afternoon, my dad said six times very adamantly, “I want to get up.” We raised his bed to a sitting position. He cannot stand up. Later he woke up and exclaimed, “How do I get out of here.” We told him we’d love to take him home. We know we cannot, except if there’s a miracle…. I’ll keep hoping. God still does those sometimes. All he consumes now are occasional sips of water — from a syringe. No more coffee…. He always loved his coffee. He loved Jack Daniels and Sangria wine and sometimes Bailey’s Irish Cream in his coffee. He also had a sweet tooth, especially for cookies and blueberry pie, but his sweet tooth went away too. The nurses gave him a “bed bath” last night. He wanted to take a shower.
I hold his hand a lot. His hands are big and strong. It’s very hard to let go of them.