The One that got Away~ Moving In part 6

We found a buyer for our home almost immediately. The next week we found a home to purchase in our new town. A new brick home on 5 acres. Horse fenced all the way around the back acreage,

complete with a large shop for hubby and nice forty by twelve loafing shed for Maggie. The coastal bermuda was beautiful, thick and lush, with not one sticker to be found. I was thrilled to find such a perfect place for my mare. As an added bonus, the neighbors behind our place just happened to have a huge arena with stadium lighting. He was a roper and taught lessons, along with competing in roping events. It was a done deal for me. We went under contract and I could feel a quiver of excitement mounting over this move. Things were falling in place with no effort on our part. This move was meant to happen.

After my mom's death, my father remarried. He was not a man who could live alone. Everyone loved his new bride, except me. I intuitively knew something was not right. They married too quickly, she had been married many times before; something felt very wrong.

His own children were thrilled with his new bride. As my sister-in-law put it," It gets us all off the hook." They had never been on the hook, so I didn't quite understand her statement.

He had been in poor health for years. His care taking, when needed, had always fallen to me. I let sister-in-law know I had never felt I was on the hook. It was an honor to care for him; after all, he had raised me.

We were to move in on July 3rd. Days before I had received a call from my Dad's wife. He insisted he come to help us move. If she did not drive him the 200 miles to our new home, he was threatening to drive himself. I remember thinking this was the last thing we needed. I attempted to discourage their trip. She assured me he was coming, period.

Great, I thought. Moving is stressful enough; what possible help could my 83 year old dad be?

Well, I couldn't tell him he was not welcomed. That would have crushed him. We decided to make the best of it.

Moving day came. Of course the movers were running late. We had loaded both pick ups to the hilt. I decided to hook up the trailer and pull Maggie to her new home.

Sure enough, as I pulled in our new drive, there sat my Dad and his wife. They had beat me by hours. Had already met some of our farming neighbors and were discussing lunch plans when I arrived.

I must admit I was thrilled to see him and proud to show off our new home. He pulled himself out of the passenger seat, with great effort. I had to hold him for a second in order for him to find his land legs. I had just seen him a month ago. Something had changed in this last month.

He was weaker than usual. His balance even more off than before. Maybe it was just the trip.

I was concerned it might be too much for him.

Fortunately they had gotten a hotel room in town. After touring the empty house and giving it his thumbs up, he announced he needed a nap. With hugs and kisses I sent him on his way to his hotel room.

The movers arrived at six o'clock that evening. The real work started. My dad and M were there to help with the boxes. It became apparent he was unable to help. I found a chair and sat him were he could watch all the action. This he hated. He had always been the man in the center of the action, not a bystander. I didn't know what else to do. He was so very frail. A fall could easily be the end of him.

Finally the moving van was empty. Our bed was set up. It was time for me to collapse. Dad and M had just left to return to the hotel room. He had kissed me lightly, given me a weak smile,and promised to be of more help tomorrow.

I awoke to a driving rainstorm. It was pouring buckets. I strained to see the clock. It was 9am!

I had not meant to sleep this late! I reached over and poked at my husband. " Wake up. We have to start unpacking boxes! " My feet no sooner hit the floor and the phone rang. It was M.

Dad had overslept as well. This too was unlike him. M explained they would come over around lunch and she would help me with the kitchen. I agreed knowing full well there was no way my husband would allow anyone to arrange his kitchen. He was the gifted cook in the family. Me?

I could care less if the house even had a kitchen. I'd have to find something else for M to help with.

Dad and M showed up just before noon. He was ready to eat. I finally resigned myself to the fact that nothing much was going to get accomplished. We called in an order of burgers and onion rings from a local eatery famous for their homemade burgers. Hubby and I started dragging in more boxes from the garage. M went to pick up burgers. My son had found the boxes marked with his name and began putting things away in his room. I was stacking kitchen boxes one upon the other. Why do we have so much kitchen stuff?! The boxes kept coming.

M finally got back with the burgers. We were all hungry by this time. We laid all the burgers out on the island and began sorting who's was who's. My Dad's order was incorrect. This should not have been a big deal,but it was. He pitched a fit; a fit which would've matched any two year old's temper tantrum. M set him straight in short order. He grew quiet and like a spoiled child,

pouted and ate his lunch. I had no doubt something was wrong.

After lunch a raging thunderstorm blew in, thwarting all plans of my dad and husband organizing the new shop. It was a driving, cold rain, especially for July. Instead, we all sorted boxes by room and once this was done, started unpacking. My dad seemed a bit brighter today.

With the exception of getting rooms confused, which would be easy to do in a new home, he was doing well. Guess M's scolding at lunch had done some good after all. He seemed determined to remain in a pleasant mood.

We all continued to work and the house was surprisingly coming together. I looked up and noticed Dad was no where to be seen. I asked M if she knew where he was; her answer was to check the bathrooms. No Dad. I ran to the garage, half expecting to find him laid out on the concrete, boxes askew. No Dad. I was beginning to panic. I had helped care for my grandfather and I understood how easily an elderly person could get out and lost. I ran back inside looking out each window I passed. I reached the kitchen and there he stood. Through the picture window I could see him, standing at the main electrical pole, in his mind working on something. I screamed for M and Husband to come, come help me. He had broken the key to the box, all live wires exposed. His hands fumbling around, for what I have no clue. M in her infinite sensitivity stated, "Well, he's probably gonna light up like a Christmas tree." With that I ran outside, into the pelting rain, praying I could reach him before the unthinkable happened.

I made it and told myself should he make contact, I could not touch him. No matter what. I tried to keep the panic out of my voice but failed miserably. "What are you doing?! Please come inside! Get away from that box!!! " With that he slammed the box closed, cursed me as only an ex Naval captain could, then stormed inside.

I was weak with relief. I was shaking from the cold and soaked to the skin. I had left the house without a sweater or jacket and the thin shirt i did have on was now plastered to my skin. I

should go inside. Instead, I went to the shop, closed the door behind me and wept. I cried much like a child. My whole body became involved. I jerked and hitched, my shoulders rising and falling, weakness filling my legs. I couldn't breathe. I surrendered to the tears and allowed them to own me. All of me.

That man at the pole was not my Tom. Not at all. It goes without saying. Tom would never have pulled a stunt like that one. Never! Most of all, Tom would never, ever, talk to me that way! Call me the names he did.

About the time I felt ready to go back inside, I heard the metal door of the shop creak open. It was M. I didn't want her to know I had been crying but at this juncture there was no denying the fact. She offered no words of comfort, just a simple explanation. " I think your Daddy has had a stroke. He went to the farm about three weeks ago, thank goodness one of the farm hands was with him. Simon was driving since it was gettin' dark. He had Simon drivin' all over the county looking for a shortcut home. Claimed there was a special road no one knew about. They ended up almost 20 miles north of the farm. Finally Simon just quit listening to him and found the way home. It was after ten o'clock by the time they made it back to town."

"Have you taken him to a doctor?" I already knew the answer. " Why no, what could a doctor do? He's already had the stroke." Stupid woman. "Well, there's lots that can be done for stroke victims these days, M." " I don't see no point in it, not now. You better get inside before we're burying you." With that, she turned and left me alone to soak up her words. I didn't want to go back in, but she was right. I had to get warm and find some dry clothes.

After a hot shower and dry clothes I did feel better. My Dad apologized for upsetting me. I could tell he had no idea what he was apologizing for. Probably didn't even remember the incident at the electric pole. My money was on M fussing at him until he agreed to apologize. That's how things seemed to work these days. He would have never allowed my Mom to treat or talk to him the way she did. He was the Captain. He gave the orders. No longer was this true.

M could be mean and thoughtless, belittling him until he felt small and insignificant. Striping him of all dignity. I hated her because of this. I still held his power of attorney, medical and otherwise. She knew this. She best not push my hand. We all knew who he trusted with his life.

We had had many conversations concerning his legal matters, even after his marriage (at 80) to M. I promised myself I wouldn't let things get ugly. But she was pushing.

They had been with us four days. They were due to leave in the morning.

On the last day my Dad seemed more himself. He joked, laughed, and generally had a good day.

We had a late lunch and after eating he announced he felt a nap coming on. He asked if he could go stretch out on my bed and I assured him it would be just fine. He wanted to know if Max (our old terrier mix) could take a nap with him. Max was always up for a nap so I called him into the bedroom and up he jumped, nesting til he found just the right spot beside my Dad.

" Could you tuck me in like you used to?" After a major and very serious surgery my parents moved in with us. Mom had cancer and couldn't be left alone. He spent 6 weeks at Baylor Hospital recovering from surgery. He was released to me with the understanding I would get him to all follow up appointments. They stayed with us almost 4 months. During this time I tucked both of them in each night. Mom's mind was so childlike. I still have the stuffed bear she used to sleep with. Tom loved being made over anyway and he certainly enjoyed our night time ritual.Blankets had to be just so, with extra on his feet because they stayed so cold. Had to have his special knee pillow and heating pad for low back pain. Fresh water(no ice, ice put his teeth on edge) and his special cup. Then a big hug, careful of chest incision, and a kiss on his bald head with an I love you to follow. He would then get weepy and tell me he just didn't know

what he would do without me. I would promise he never would be without me. I would go the last mile with him. More kisses, dry eyes,then sleep. Usually I would leave the room in tears due to sheer exhaustion. I was still working full time as a LMT. We had been blessed to find a kind black lady to sit with them during the day so my husband and I could work. But the stress of caring for both of them was getting to us all.

Well, back to tucking in. With Max in place, I got the blankets just so. Found a pillow for his knees, wrapped his feet up with an extra blanket, searched and found a working heating pad! and leaned over to kiss his bald head. "You have been the greatest blessing in my life." Bottom lip quivering; eyes filling with tears. "And I'm so thankful I could come help you move. I can rest easy now knowing you're in a nice house." " Well Tom, we couldn't have done it without you. I love you more than you'll ever know. Get some rest."

I pulled the door to, fearing my tucking in days were numbered.

Sunday, the next morning ,they left for home. It was a tearful goodbye with many promises made to get home as soon as I could. I still had a business to deal with but couldn't dare think of that right now.

In the wee hours of Monday, Tom was hospitalized with a low grade fever. M called sometime Monday to let us know. This had happened before. He was on Embrel injections for RA and one of the side effects was a weakened immune system. Probably standing out in that cold rain while he was here had made him sick. I just prayed it didn't turn into pneumonia. Usually a couple of days on IV antibiotics would take care of any infection.

M called Monday night to report there was no change. They were gonna try yet a stronger antibiotic and see if he would respond. I asked if I needed to come and she assured me no, give this new drug time to work. I went to bed, praying to sleep well. I had already made up my mind after a good nights rest, I would make the 4 hour drive.

My husband woke me Tuesday morning. I had been in a dead sleep and couldn't seem to wake.

I felt I could sleep another full day. Guess the move and the worry of my Dad's overall condition had finally caught up with me. "Honey, you need to wake up," Hubby again. Oh yes, I was supposed to make the trip to see my Dad. I had to get rolling. Oh, just one more hour, I thought. "Terri, please wake up." It was only 7:30. I could sleep one more hour easily. "Honey you have to wake up. M called." This woke me. "She called my cell around 6:00am. Tom passed

around 5:30 this morning."