It's Been a Minute . . . Or a Year.

Eldercare BROKE me. 

At least for a while. 
After the six months mom needed full time care and the year since with dad, it consumed me. At the time it's the only thing to do. There was no time frame in my head of how it would go. Some days I was there 24 hours. Some days I stole away for an hour and a half to go home. To hug my husband and my dog. To walk our trails and feel normal. There was nobody else to care for my parents if they were to remain in their home. So I did. 

It's been 4 weeks since my dad fell. Again. This time it felt different. Although I managed to help him up and eventually back into bed, the sound of the back of his head hitting the floor from three rooms away insisted I call someone. At first he was aware of his surroundings. By the end of the day he couldn't pull up my name. 

He remained on the 5th floor of the hospital because Nursing homes & Hospice care had no openings. The possibility of lingering in one of those places for months or years left all of us with a feeling of dread. The nurse said he slipped away between the 7 & 9 p.m. comfort checks on Memorial Day.

The (guilty) relief that it finally has ended has cheated me of grieving the parents I love. It's been 4 weeks since I've been home. Fixing myself. Taking care of things I let go for a year and a half. Getting the garden in. Ugly crying will come. I can usually tell when it's building.

But for now I'm remembering to take deep breaths. To live normal.

Yesterday Tom and I went for a long ride to a favorite fishing spot. 

I took mom's shiny red fishing pole I found in a corner of their garage a few months ago. A quick test of a few casts across the lawn proved it still worked well. 

Tom beat me with the first cast out and caught the 1st fish - which I always tease him I'M GOING TO CATCH . . . AND THE BIGGEST :) 

\<sigh> I managed to get the hook wrapped around some scrub brush in front of me but eventually spit on the worm (as dad taught me), cast out and with a gentle plop, it landed right where I intended. A quick glance up at the clouds as I breathed the word Mom. And let go of the button with my thumb. A trout was already running away with my line. A keeper. The next cast was our biggest of the day. :) I thanked dad as I put it in my fishing bag. 

The third one dropped off the hook into the water I was standing in and swam away. I smiled at the changing sky and thanked my sister Nola for the bit of humor: very funny!

It was a good day.

We're going to be okay.