THINGS

The week that we moved Dad to a care center was one of the hardest weeks of my life. The day we moved him went pretty well. He was quiet as we made the change. I followed him in my car and remember thinking, "It doesn't matter where I serve him, it just matters that I do serve him". I am grateful for that thought, but I had no idea how hard it was going to get. He was OK the first couple of days, but soon he was hating it desperately. It was hard because I felt I needed to spend more time there as he was learning to live without someone sitting at his side to tell him what time it was every five minutes. It was also hard because I felt so guilty. The Saturday before he passed away, he was begging us to take him home. I tried to explain to him that happiness isn't a place. His home is just "a thing". Happiness is inside of us. He wasn't particularly happy at home either. He didn't want to understand this. He wanted what he "knew", and that was all that mattered to him. Saturday we finally emptied the condo. Every single thing that my parents held near and dear while they were "in this life" is no longer there. Every shelf is empty. All of the closets are bare. Their things are scattered among the people they loved and loved them in return. All that is left is stacked in their garage. One pile is for the DI, and one for the dump. You can consider me to be an expert when I tell you that it is heart wrenching to sort through every single thing that was valuable to some one's life after they have gone. I am grateful for the things that I have with me that remind me of them. I am also grateful for our wonderful family, both near and far, that helped me through this process. It would not have been possible without their love, support, and help. I am especially grateful that those piles in the garage are very small, and so much of what was theirs is now being loved by someone that loved them.