To All The Family
My widowed 88 year old
father writes from his fancy retirement home in Niagara:
“Youngest sister has
been wonderful at getting me here, seeing that I am comfortable, hanging
pictures and arranging all the furniture in this cosy little suite.
However, in setting up
my computer to enable me to correspond with friends and debtors, she has
totally failed to recognize that I am of a generation of computer illiterates,
unable to comprehend the nomenclature of the beast.
Words appear, to which I
can apply an interpretation, based on my use of these words, and hearing them
in normal conversation through seventy years. But these assume different meanings as applied to
computers. Be patient with
me. I’m very crotchety, and as
youngest sister noted, I’m into the sauce. You would be too if you were incarcerated in Serenity
Towers.
I might be losing my
marbles, and if I should pop off, I would hate to leave all the cleaning up to
youngest sister. However, she is a
joint owner of my bank account, and I know that she will see justice done.
Unfortunately, our house
in the Maritimes is not yet sold.
It should fetch $275,000, which will leave about a quarter of a million
among the five of you. Peanuts! I wish I could have done better. But none of you is hurting financially.
Presentiments of
mortality are intruding. Must sign
off now.
Love, Dad.
Youngest sister and
youngest brother visited him on the weekend, and this is her report:
“On to dad, at the
other end of the family demographic. He is in decline, mostly out of breath and
very tired and sleeping all the time. He cannot get into and out of his car
anymore so we use our Escape which is higher up. He will not drive again.
His fall three weeks
ago has created complications with his care - people his age heal poorly. He is
now having a wound care specialist come in to treat him. We have had numerous
medical appointments, about two a week and the prognosis is congestive heart
failure. So gradually his heart is less able to pump the stuff around. His
blood pressure is very low.
He takes some pills
each morning (diuretic) to prevent build up of fluid in his lungs. He is bored
and depressed and mostly sleeps. He still makes his bed each morning and gets
himself dressed but it takes a long time. I think he was quite hopeful that he
might have prostate cancer but the doc told him he that he didn't.
The Second Floor
terrifies him which is probably a good thing as he is holding it together
better. But his time left is short I believe - he thinks four months, I think
next Christmas. I don't see any need for anyone far away to come see him,
unless it is something you want to do - he does not expect it”.
Those last words from
youngest sister - the same stoicism my mother displayed at her impending death.
She really didn’t want any visitors, anyone intruding in the business of dying,
and it looks like my father will go the same way, denying his children the
opportunity to take the journey with him.
No comments:
Post a Comment