We haven't written about Pa much in the course of this blog and the 13 months we've been back in Minneapolis. Truth be told, I often don't know what to say to him or about him.Pa is 96. He lives on the other side of the lake, in a nursing home. When we got here, he was still in assisted living, where he had his own two-room apartment with a little kitchen and a bathroom, and 24-hour assistance. but some months back, Pa got to the end of his savings and had to let them go, put the apartment up for sale and had to move into the nursing home wing of the facility. Only through the generosity of my cousin Chris does Pa get a room to himself.
Nanny has been gone for 12 years now. Pa lived in the old house in Niles, Ill., with help, until one day he drove his car through the back wall of the garage and Mom brought him here to live in Minneapolis.
It's hard to visit him sometimes. Pa still functions pretty well, mostly knows who we are and who the kids are. That's especially true for Colleen. When we first moved here, Colleen would be very shy when we'd get to his room, and if we spent an hour there, she wouldn't warm up until the final 15 minutes. That shyness went away a little while ago and now she is very playful with him, and I know he appreciates it. When I think about what he's gained by living what can only be seen as beyond his expected time, I know that relationships with our kids are on the list.
We brought him over on Labor Day for dinner on the patio and just hung out. He hates the food in the nursing home but to be honest, he can't taste it anyway, so it doesn't make much difference. He spent a good amount of time trying to recreate these great paper airplanes he used to fold when we were kids, but couldn't quite figure it out.
Mom gets exasperated with her dad, calling at all hours, not always remembering who he's spoken to already or what they've spoken about or agreed to. And Cate, bless her soul, has taken Pa to heart in our time here. We went over to visit on Sunday and Cate basically drove the conversation. I sat there in awe of her.
Tonight Pa called -- having trouble with his television remote for the first time in a while. All Pa wants to do is watch the ballgame, and sometimes he gets in his own way. There are too many buttons, and he really only needs five of them. He gets so frustrated. I went over there to fix the remote and he wanted to know what I had done, but I couldn't tell him because sometime he might want to fix it himself. And that would only make it worse.
I don't want to be 96. Sure, 85 maybe. And fifty years from now, maybe 96 will be the new 86. But old and frail and unable to help myself, that's not something I want to be. I don't care how many great-grandchildren I would live to see.
But I don't get the sense that his time is up. The last time I spoke to Nanny, she was deep into the throes of Alzheimer's, and even though I only got the true Nanny for a couple of minutes, I was thankful because I knew I wouldn't get another chance.
I have yet to feel that with Pa.
7 comments:
Wow! Great blog, Patrick!!
This just makes me sad... I did a story once about a man in a retirement community and learned so much about the extreme loneliness that these amazing people go through in their final years. Former WWII heroes, brilliant scientists, women who raised a passel of children and started businesses, people who changed the world.
Many of us are not equipped to care for our elderly relatives, but we don't want them in *homes* either.
There is no easy answer.
I, like you, do not relish the thought of being too old to function.
But I love life so much, I can't imagine anything other than going along until I simply can't anymore.
In honor of your Pa and Joe Botto, who impacted my life before he passed away (soon after this article was published) I'll enjoy the chaos and the quiet with a little more appreciation.
http://loudounextra.washingtonpost.com/blogs/living-loco/2007/nov/30/joe-shares-his-wish-us/
Shoot, I meant to mention a fellow parishioner of ours who stops in and chats with Pa on a regular basis. Neil goes over regularly, as do at least a couple of my cousins.
Tammi -- thanks for the link.
The few times I have been around him for various family gatherings, I have very much enjoyed how he just absorbs the action. There is an evident twinkle in his eye, expecially when he interacts with the little ones. I can probably only guess that he is so delighted with the legacy he has built in his very full life.
What a blessing for all of you to have him in your life for as long as you have.
M gave him a kiss goodbye today. Awwwwwwwwwwwww...
What a tough thing to consider. Imagine how frustrated he must be. If it frustrates us to see older folks like this, I can't even begin to fathom how it must be to live as they do.
Nice work here Pat.
Pat, just read this blog post ... I know what you mean.
I just got home about an hour ago from my grandma's visitation ... She died Wednesday morning, about 3 weeks from her 88th birthday ... When I moved to Michigan seven years ago, she was living in an apartment complex by herself ... Two years later, my mom (and sister) moved her into a nursing room ... And for the last year, she had be in the hospice part of the nursing home ... Each time I came to Ohio, I made sure to visit her and each time, it got harder because she was getting worse. Today, she was at peace and looked so much better than she did when I saw her in May.
Things have been hard because she was basically the only grandparent that I remember ... My dad's dad died long before I was born, mom's dad died when I was seven and dad's mom died when I was 10. I helped grandma with a lot of things from grocery shopping to cleaning, and what I remember the most was the time spent her and the money that she would give me for helping her ... Most of the time, it was only between $3-$5, but that was a big deal ... My siblings and I would always fight over who would help grandma because we all wanted that money!!
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