My sister Adrienne in Ft. Dodge served as our parents' most constant contact during the past several years of their increasing need. When they relinquished their driver's licenses, she transported them on errands and to appointments. She joined them weekly for Trivia and shuffled them from the care center to her house to include them in her family's holiday celebrations.
When our parents moved in with me last March, Adrienne wrote them hand-penned letters five times a week.
Since they returned to Ft. Dodge in August, she's re-shouldered the family role of most-visible and helpful child (despite, I might add, having had hip replacement surgeries in October and again in December).
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My parents' current meal plan at Friendship Haven provides breakfast and lunch each day. They prepare their evening meal themselves, often using leftovers from their noon meal or concocting a healthy fruit salad.
Adrienne had been the one to taxi our mom to Fareway for the past several years, helping her take advantage of the damaged produce and day-old bread. (Our mom loves a bargain.)
With our parents' mobility curtailed by COVID, Adrienne now does their shopping herself, delivering their humble order each Saturday.
Today, at my request, she included Klondike Bars as a surprise.
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My dad called a little before noon.
"Alli?"
"Hi, Dad."
"Did you send us Klondike Bars?"
"Yes! I did. Did Adrienne bring them to you?
"She did. Thank you."
I expected at least a short conversation. But I sense my dad is having a harder and harder time keeping up his end of our phone chats. He's now employing strategies our mother uses to minimize attention to her failing mental acuity.
"Bye now," he said.
Bye, Dad.
Enough.
Be well.
Write.
Allison
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| Little Prince on his new throne. |
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