Dad's Home - An Update and a Memory

Selling Dad's home this  last year to pay for his assisted living was tough. So many things I wished I could have brought home with me, but our  small Bungalow literally does not have the space for it, my husband's family memories already taking up a lot of space in our basement, so thankful we could have them.

We donated to charity all that we could, the small bits of furniture, the family photos and the framed photos and mementoa that meant a lot to him were salvaged for his new little apartment, but everything not sold at auction and not donatable items was put in the giant trash bin (you have no idea how much stuff one collects in 75 years and I pray you never have to be the one to clean it up). I'd been helping pay for his home health care, but after a couple of scares and falls he realized himself that he needed to go into assisted living. (He's welcome to live with us but does not want to leave the place where his two wives and two children are buried and jobs in our fields are NOT available there unless we want a 3-6 hour daily commute). So the house sale was a blessing.  I've delayed my retirement (I know, I can actually retire in 2021, I'm officially "old") in case the house money runs out but we should be good for another year and a half.  After that, my income will cover it (he makes too much with his military pension to qualify for medicaid for nursing home care). He's 100 this year, every day is a gift.

So for today, a memory of when he still had the place. On the plus side he's really enjoying assisted living as he's got a  nice room with a view of the forest (I have Chewy.com send him suet feeder squares every month and their maintenance guy, who gets a nice tip when I visit, puts them out every week in his feeders that we set up outside his window).   He gets a lot more social interaction with people like him, including  a WWII Vet and a Korean Vet I met last visit who beat me at poker and his former neighbors and some of my late brothers friends visit him regularly.
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There are a collection of these on the rail of the deck at the family homestead. Can any of you guess what they are?


After just a few days here, Dad is looking better. The nasty wound he got on his arm when he fell, is healing. The doctor couldn't find any organic reason for his getting dizzy, but adjusted his meds, which has seemed to help. My brother R. and I put up rails in the tub and in the bath so he has a little help if he needs it. My stepbrother helped with a rail by the front porch.  Still he's much more alert, out walking the dog and still looking anything but 91.


My room hasn't changed. The rainbow? (there's a full sized one on the other walls). I was a preteen and bored. I wanted to paint the walls. Dad said I could, but I could ONLY use the leftover paint in the garage. That's why I have rainbows made out of 1970's aqua, hot pink, orange and gold. Dad refused to paint over them.


My toys are still on display. (low light, not the best photo)


The family room has a wall of pride for each sibling. Here's one from my big brother R. Mine just has some airplane stuff and some diploma things and ribbon stuff, nothing much to see . The brother's Submarine wall itself, is pretty impressive and there's an Air Force wall up as well.


Time for dinner. Dad is pretty much Mr. "Meat and Potatoes". I don't think I had Mexican Food until I was 19. "Exotic" was spaghetti with garlic bread. For him tonight, roasted pork tenderloin, steamed veggies tossed with butter and a few dried cranberries and of course, garlic cheese bread and a PBR. Gourmet he's not, and will never apologize for not being trendy. Game, fish he caught himself, vegetables from his garden, bread his family members baked. That's all he needs to be happy.


Mom's needlepoint, still all around the house.


Ash, (short for Ashley) retired fire truck dog, sleeps. She won't be more than 10 feet away from Dad, for just about anything. At 11, she's slowing down, but so is Dad. Fast friends, they are. Ash belonged to a family member. With a new baby in the house, they didn't have the time a senior dog needed. Dad had TOO much time. It was a perfect fit.


Afternoon chores, the garage needs some tidying up. In the wooden cabinets that Dad built by hand, a catch of memories. The tear came unbidden, as did the big smile.(Note: I had to capture this in my last book "True Course Lessons From a Life Aloft"  - "In the shadows, Dad stored fishing gear. Everything meticulously kept, even as nets rotted, laying in wait with that spent but alert quality that aging things bear as if they doubted the absoluteness of their eventual discard, as if they will be necessary and needed tomorrow.")

After the chores are done, time for a little snack for all. A hand tossed pizza crust sprinkled with roasted garlic, Tillamook cheese, basil and rosemary and than baked with spicy marinara to dip it in.


You can't have snacks without a rousing game of cribbage. Dad, with referee Ash, won. Didn't just win every game He SKUNKED me on the last round. Of course, he then calls my brothers to tell them.


What kind of thing is that, rubbing it in that you are the king of the game board. No one else in the family would do such a thing!


I certainly wouldn't :-)