(Daughter and her newest cousin)
A month ago today we put our house on the market, our daycare fell apart and my Dad went into end stage dementia. All in the same day. We also had our first showing that day. I spent the evening sitting at my Dad’s bed side. And then spent an hour on the phone, late into the night, with fellow parents.
The next day was a Saturday and we spent the morning at a birthday party for a classmate, where most of the talk was about which teachers we lost rather than what flavor the cake was. That afternoon I spent four hours in my Dad’s room, listening to his bed inflate and deflate, and hoping that each cough wouldn’t be his last. My Mom was driving back from Iowa as quickly as she could. The Hospice nurse gave him oxygen and told me that he didn’t have much time.
Sunday morning we were up early, prepping for our first open house, when the phone rang. It wasn’t quite 8am and I knew who was on the other line. It was Mom calling to say that Dad was gone.
We knew it was coming. We didn’t think it was coming that soon.
Even a month later, it’s hard to write about it.
The next few weeks were full of plans and hugs and new teachers and house showings. My sister came home for a few days, we spent hours at the pool with Mom, high school friends called to share their memories and new friends offered their shoulders to cry on. Last weekend we held the funeral and there were crowds of people sharing stories, laughter, more hugs and kind words.
This week we had yet another open house, more showings, and more new teachers.
I’m starting to come out of the fog. It’s been a rough summer. But I am grateful for so many things.