My wife’s father is in the Memory Care Unit at Mulberry RFD. That’s such a nice title, Memory Care, so soft and gentil for the relatives of residents. Mulberry RFD, is a story I blogged in April, and for those curious, I’ve linked it.
We received a letter a couple of weeks back, that the resident-family Christmas dinner date was approaching and they wanted a family “count”. My wife put down two and mailed it. TWO!! Dang, I’ve got projects needing to be completed BEFORE Christmas, and they’re out door projects requiring decent weather like we are expected to have THAT day. Well, all-right, she often needs my support.
We arrived that evening relatively early, we got the last non-lawn parking spot. There were neatly decorated tables set up everywhere, up and down the two hallways, and in the open area. All family members were to bring a desert to share, my wife made her dad’s second favorite, French Silk Pie. While she was taking the pie to the desert table AND cutting him a piece to be certain he got one, I went to the table, where he was already seated.
Merle doesn’t like getting up out of bed much, but when told his daughter was coming, he got up and was escorted to his table. Each table was festively decorated and arranged with name tags for seating each resident. As I approached the table where Merle was sitting, he was dozing, I woke him up and greeted him. Expressionless he looked at me. My wife joined us with his pie, which he just couldn’t save and ate half, before the meal. We were joined by resident Dr. Taffee, who didn’t have family joining attending. The doctor, knew when he retired and what is practice was, but he couldn’t understand why we were all here.
Doesn’t Make you Wonder?
While eating, I looked around the room, at the nondescript, blank faces of the residents. One of the workers had bought her two daughters along, about ages 7 and 8. They stopped at each table, gave a little gift to each resident and sang a short secular holiday song to each resident. The residents couldn’t figure out what the gifts were or why they got them. When tragedy strikes, you sometimes can piece together the why of it. Sometimes it’s a poor decision on someones’ part that affects them and/or an innocent bystander. Sometimes, it’s a silent, mysterious health event that catches you off guard, which becomes a beacon of awareness touching someone’s life.
But, don’t you just wonder, why it is, that some of us lose that “little bit” of personality that separates them from you? How is it, that someone loses all of the past and others only pieces of it. I sat looking at the blank, nondescript faces, realizing they were clueless of the events around them, the singing kids, the Santa Clause with the “black” mustache, or that I was even there. I wondered, how does this fit into the “plan”? I just don’t see it.
My outside projects, include the use of table saws, wood planer, etc, and require a day without precipitation, and warm enough to work out, in front of the garage. You see, my garage/shop, doesn’t have a dust control system, it’s just a garage/shop. And this project needs to be sufficiently completed before the holiday visitation process begins.
I was “given” an extra day or two, later that week. The weatherman was wrong.
I just don’t see how this all fits the “plan”…………………………….