Having just returned from the first half of our school holiday break, we can report that Grandpa is doing well. We drove down there, having heard he had ‘a sniffle and a cough.’ The constant worry about my father went into overdrive. I was thinking, he hasn’t recovered from double pneumonia long enough to get sick again.
In reality, he has a bit of a drippy nose and does cough now and then. Apart from that, dad seems completely healthy and well and normal. 85-year-old normal though. He is, after all, a year older now. We celebrated his birthday while he was in hospital and at death’s door.
Since released a couple of months ago, dad has been noticeably quieter, slower, and less inclined to search for the right answer in the crossword.
Yet, that hasn’t stopped him getting back into bowls and all the other clubs he belongs to, as well as going to church twice a week. Dad drives himself everywhere, even over the mountains to buy groceries once a fortnight. My brother and I relaxed a little. The whole family has been checking on visiting dad regularly since July, monitoring his progress back to health. I felt reassured, heartened to see that he has made a marvellous recovery and is doing well.
Prior to dad contracting pneumonia, my brother and I had been taking our boys to visit with him in every holiday break. It is healthy for all of us to return and touch base with our heritage. What could be better for the boys right now, than time with their grandpa?
Our boys have grown up a lot in the last two years since we started our trips. Yet, they’re still young enough – that delightful in-between – when they still want to play ball at the park, and build “houses” for crabs on the shoreline at the beach. So, we spend part of each day at the parks, the beaches, and fishing off the wharves. Breakfast, lunch and dinner and the evenings are spent with grandpa. We help each other figure out crossword puzzles. We play two rounds of cribbage each night, and grandpa can still be relied upon to keep perfect score.
But, where once he would entertain us with stories in the evenings, those days are long gone. He doesn’t reach for his handwritten book of old time song lyrics or limericks and jokes and regale us with the best of the best anymore.
Sometimes, dad wants to watch a certain show on television. But, then he returns to what he’s doing. He withdraws, somewhere. Even his eyes look faraway. I notice it’s hard to get him into a conversation of any length. He’s more interested in the newspaper or the crossword or his jigsaw puzzle.
When we left today, I told him that another one of his daughters would be there in a couple of days.
Dad responded gruffly, “I haven’t been alone more than three days since I was released.”
“We care about you,” I said.
I didn’t tell him, ‘we’re worried you’re not looking after yourself. We’re trying to take care of you in such a way, by doing little things here and there each time we visit, that we take some of the strain off you and in that way, we enable you to stay in your own home for as long as possible.’
Dad knows the writing is on the wall. Losing the dignity of independence is a rough road for anyone. That’s where family comes in.
We try to cushion him, and we’re doing our utmost to help him stay where he’s happiest.
Each time one of us comes away from Grandpa, the rest of the family gather round wanting to know, whether in person or by ether, how was he? What was your sense? We try to get a gauge on how dad’s doing and what the appropriate response should be.
This time, the answer is, “Grandpa has a sniffle. Otherwise, he’s doing great.” He is complaining of being smothered by family! But, still, I didn’t hear him say no when I offered to make him a hot lemon and honey drink at night. I suspect he secretly likes all the attention.
We’ve returned to the city. My brother and I agree, we feel good, reassured about our father’s health and wellbeing, and yet, already, we’re planning the next check visit. You know how it is. Any time spent with him is precious and it sets our minds and hearts at ease.
How do you support your parents’ wellbeing into graceful old age?
Keep on Creating!
Yvette K. Carol
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Wealth is the ability to fully experience life. ~ Henry David Thoreau
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The Or’in of Tane Mahuta
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Yvette Carol, Author 
You’re a good daughter, Yvette. I wish my parents were still alive. They haven’t been around for many, many years. I think of them every day. Miss them madly. Love hearing about your dad for reasons I can’t explain. Sounds like he has much on his mind right now. Could be a transition to a new phrase or understanding, maybe. Life is quietly teaching him something he can’t put into words. I don’t know. My father didn’t live long enough to lay hints to that; but, my mother did. I remember distinctly when she would want alone time, and I’d catch her with that faraway look. She would say something like, “remember, life is a circle. There’s a season for everyone.” I’d nod, but I didn’t understand then what she meant.
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Hi, Joylene, my condolences for the loss of your parents.
Dad’s always liked to go off into the sunroom and do his jigsaws on his own, but, such solitary activities are becoming the norm rather than the exception, of late. Everyone’s noticed the changes. I think there is a necessary winding down in one’s 80’s. Though, perhaps when one has been particularly active and busy one’s entire life, the shifting down a gear, as one prepares for the next stage, is more noticeable. The main thing is, dad’s contented and that’s the priority. 🙂
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