Visiting Dad

 I FORGOT THE SAUSAGE BALLS! 

The plans were to leave promptly at 8 AM. This meant I needed to get up at 6...I mean 6:3...I mean 7 AM to be on the road on time. I DID get up, I DID get dressed, and I actually even put on makeup. I figured I would probably just cry it all off by the end of the day, but I put it on anyway. These days I usually reserve makeup for church and never bother with it the rest of the week. 

The whole family was going, but at the last second the Mr. decided to stay home with the dog. I agreed with this, because with Katie, Jeffrey, and both girls plus Matt and Ally, it would all be too much for Dad. I hated to leave the Mr. at home, because that meant I would be doing the driving, and I would have liked to ride passenger and doze off in the seat while I played my WWF game, but it was better this way. See the sacrifices I make for my family? Har har. So Ally rode with me and Matt drove himself and Katie's family followed in their truck. 

As we began the drive we had to make a music choice. Ally, never trusting my taste in music, offered her Spotify so we would not have to worry about You Tube adverts. Do you have any Marty Robbins? I asked her. Of course! I knew she liked some Marty Robbins songs, despite her disdain for most of my musical choices, but I had no idea she had her own Marty Robbins playlist. I was surprised. So she put her music on and the first few strains of Felina or EL Paso, as it's formal name is known, came tumbling through the radio speakers. We listened for a minute and then she spoke up with an observation. I think his mistake was stealing the horse, not killing the man. I said What makes you think so? Well...stealing horses was considered equal to killing people. I dunno about that, I said. She continued. Also, some people think that Felina is the one that killed him. I did a double take. Whaat? Why would Felina kill him, she loves him! Remember at the end One little kiss and Felinnnnnnaaaa Good Byyyyyyee...

We replayed the song. And then, for the first time in fifty years, I heard it! "I was in love but in vain, I could tell". 

I went along with her scenario. Well, then, maybe he was just DREAMING at the end! Maybe Felina DID kill him! Maybe it wasn't the five mounted cowboys on the right and the dozen or more on the left.

It was nice driving along talking to Ally. I had no idea she loved Marty Robbins. I had no idea she even listened to Marty Robbins. Most of her playlists involve Spongebob sound tracks and the Beach Boys. I told her I had found that this was excellent music to sit and draw or paint to. She told me she already knew that, very well, in fact. Who knew? 

As we approached Dad's neighborhood I found myself driving slower and slower. I was dreading the moment of  arrival. I hadn't seen Dad in a couple of months, and he hadn't looked so good then. I knew he had declined since, and by the time I got to his driveway the car was almost to a crawl. I pulled up and just sat there for a minute or two. Then I took a deep breath and got on with it. 

I was shocked at the house. Dad has always been very clean. Dishes always done, floor swept, laundry done, everything neatly in it's place. 

There were dirty dishes filling the sink. Laundry everywhere. Trash overflowing. 

I pretended I didn't see it. I gave Joyce a bear hug and then went into the living room. And there he was. Sitting in his chair, as he always is now, since he can't meet me at the door. He had a walker in front of him and he didn't have his teeth in. He was sporting a two inch goatee. He looked so frail. So very frail. I greeted him with a hug, as much of a hug as I could give him, since I had to get through walker to get to him. We sat and talked for a minute and then I went into the kitchen and started cleaning. There were dirty handtowels everywhere. The sink smelled abominable. I didn't say anything about it, just started loading the dishwasher and cleaning up the countertops. Towels in the laundry. Trash out to the trashcan. Wash out the sink and put things away. 

It is clear that they need the assisted living. Joyce can't take care of him. She can't do laundry or dishes. She can't take out the trash. She is pretty much as helpless as he is. She doesn't drive and now he can't any longer. They need help. 

He had asked me to make him a taco casserole, and I had brought the ingredients. I set them all out and got out a pan and began cooking the ground beef. Katie and Jeff and the girls arrived and Claire wanted to help me cook. So we cooked. I opened the cans, with the help of Katie, and Claire and I poured the soups into the bowl and then she stirred it all up. I put the cheese on top of it all and popped it in the oven...and then, as I looked over the bar at Joyce, the moment came. DID YOU BRING THE SAUSAGE BALLS? And then it dawned on me...I left. the sausage balls. at home. I reminded myself fifteen times. I wrote it on this blog at least twice if not three times. I made two different lists of things to bring and I still. left. the sausage balls. at home. 

So with sad face, I had to admit that I had forgotten, after promising her that I would not forget. She took it well, not too disappointed. I let it go. 

Dad loved the taco casserole. I told him I had some fruitcake. Would he like some? 

Joyce chimed in. IS IT FIRM or SOFT fruitcake? I said it's kind of firm. NO we don't want any of that. Dad spoke up. SPEAK for yourself! He said. So I got him some fruitcake and he seemed to enjoy that, as well. 

Full disclosure here: Joyce wasn't really yelling everything she said to me, but it just seemed funny to type it in caps. 

While I cooked I could hear Jeffrey talking woodshop to Dad. He was showing them all of the things he is making. He was making such pleasant conversation that it took any awkwardness out of the room. After finishing the cleaning of the kitchen I came over and sat next to Dad and we just visited for awhile. He looked like he was getting tired, though, and he said he didn't feel good. I knew we would have to leave soon. The doorbell rang and hospice showed up to bring some things. Oxygen. A wheelchair. Matthew spun around the room in the wheelchair, I think if the space had allowed he would have popped a few wheelies. He really seemed to enjoy time with Grandpa. 

The girls were getting rowdy so I sent them outside to play in the back yard. They ran around chasing each other and just generally glad to be outside. They had had a long ride up, and were facing another long ride home, a lot for little girls, so it seemed good to send them out. Besides, little girls being little girls, they were noisy. 

We ordered a pizza for all of us, and left the taco casserole for Dad and Joyce. The girls didn't understand this. They really wanted the taco casserole. Arya didn't persist, she was happy with the pizza, but Claire was not happy. I decided we would have our first real heart to heart. After all, she is almost seven. So I sat with her in the dining room and talked to her like I would an adult. Not over her head, but I didn't treat her like a baby. Do you know why we are not eating the taco casserole? she shook her head no. Because Grandpa and Grandma cannot cook anymore. They need the food I just cooked to eat after we leave. If we eat it, what will they eat when we are gone? I don't like pizza, she mumbled. I knew this was true, because the last two times I had served pizza she had declined. I had forgotten. And then, just at that second I remembered that I had brought some Mac n' Cheese.  Would you like some of that? She nodded yes. I made it for her and she was satisfied. 

And after that she had two slices of pizza. 

The neighbor, Chris, a Godsend of a man, stopped by to talk to Dad. Dad and Joyce caught him up on all of the bad news from the doctor. No more chemo. No more treatment. Hospice has begun. We are moving. 

I didn't tell them that I had already talked to Chris and given him all the information, or that he was beside himself about it. He is one of those rare neighbors that loves unselfishly. He drives them around, takes out their trash, comes by to talk, and checks on them. He is dad's best friend, a young man with shoulder length dreads and a wife, family, and a full time job. With all that he still finds the time to devote to them and I am thankful. I make sure he knows I am thankful. 

By now Dad was fading fast. He needed rest. We began our goodbyes. I put on my wonderful voluminous cape, the one that keeps me so warm. I came over and leaned down and kissed his bristly cheek and grabbed his hand. I held onto it for a moment, feeling his big knuckles in mine, those familiar big knuckles, that had held my hand as a toddler, shown me how to ride a bike, patted me on the back a thousand times, spanked me a few well deserved times and given me love for fifty eight years. 

I looked into his tired eyes and don't think I have ever loved him more.