As he approaches 92 years of life, my Dad understandably has more bad days than good ones, but every once in a while he has a decent day that brings him back to us, and glimmers of the man who raised me appear. Such was the happy summer day when my Mom took Noah to see the Van Gogh exhibit, and I stayed with Dad for the morning and afternoon.
There are days when he doesn’t quite recognize anyone – not his family or friends, not his health aides or caretakers – and those are difficult. On this day he knew me, even if he couldn’t recall the health aide who was just finishing up his bath when I arrived.
He seems to do a little better in the summer, when he can amble about carefully outside, with some help. Before lunch, I decided to take him on a very short walk, just along the sidewalk in front of my parents’ home. At first he was hesitant, saying it was too hot, but I simply walked him outside and said it’s cool in the shade. There was also a nice breeze which pushed him forward. We stayed mostly in the shade of the two maple trees near the sidewalk. He pushed his walker, and I put my hand on his back for extra support.
We went back inside, but about half an hour later he moved to the front door, this time without his walker, so I took his arm and we went outside again. When he’s in the mood to walk, it’s best to take advantage and get some exercise and exertion in. We went around the front sidewalk again, and as we came back up to the side porch, he kept walking up the step onto the porch and into the shaded nook. Mom had set up a table and chairs there, so we sat down, and I put the mail from the mailbox onto the table. He went through it, more out of habit than any sort of real reading, but it occupied his hands, and gave us something to do as we sat there in the breeze.
We returned inside and I got lunch ready. We ate unhurriedly, and despite the large plate I put together for him, he finished most of it. He’s maintained a decent appetite in his later years, much to everyone’s relief. He got up from the table but I asked him to wait, as I rushed to get some ice cream in a bowl for our dessert. I wasn’t fast enough, and he was already up and heading back to the family room, but I re-routed him to the table again, and when he saw the ice cream I said it was for him to eat, so he sat and ate it. Sometimes re-routing works, sometimes it doesn’t.
We moved to the living room, from where we could look out into the little koi pond outside the window. He likes to watch the fish and feed them, and they were good enough to swim about and show off for him to see. A few months ago, on a winter’s day when I was staying with him, I stood with him looking out onto the snow-covered backyard. At that time I wanted to tell him I loved him, but I got shy and thought it might sound foolish, so I didn’t. Ever since then I wanted to make sure I said it to him because every day matters now.
As we talked about the fish, and counted how many there were, I put my hand on his shoulder and said, “Love you, Dad.” I hoped I said it loud enough so he could hear me – I needed him to hear me this time. Without pause he said, “Love you too.”
It was a very good day.
