Sandwhich Chronicles Part Two

Speeding Up

I told my father that I had a long online workshop and would be upstairs but unavailable to talk, go anywhere etc. and not to bother me until I was done. An hour in and I’m presenting in one of the breakout groups. I hear knocking at the door then in my peripheral vision see his head tentatively pop into my room. I stop my presentation. “What happened, dad? I’m in the middle of a meeting.”

“Oh, sorry, but it’s very important. Please come talk to me right away.”

I get back to the breakout group but my mind wanders. What now? Did he clog the toilet? Break something valuable? Start something on fire?

When the breakout group merges back to the larger community I step out to see what dad needed.

“I have terrible news. I think my sister died.”

“Ummm Dad, she died three years ago. Did you see something on her phone? (which he has been using since he did not have an Iphone).”

“Well yes, I think I did. She died three years ago? How did she die?”

I can tell he’s incredibly shaken.

“That was pretty upsetting to see, wasn’t it?” He nods and tears well up in his eyes.

I head down the stairs and give him a hug.

“I’ll tell you all about her death and burial after my meeting. How about we go get some food and chat about it?”

“Ok,” he says weakly.

An hour later he knocks at my door again. “What’s up, dad?”

“Oh, just needed to ask you something.”

After the meeting I head down the stairs and see him standing in the living room.

“Did you have something to ask me?”
“I wanted to see if you might want to go get a coffee.”

We head for food and he’s in rough shape.

“What’s going on, dad? Are you ok?”

“I just feel very vulnerable and alone.” His voice shakes and he’s on the verge of tears. But I’m glad he can express himself.

I tell him that I think he needs an assisted living center soon, more for the social aspect than anything else. He seems very unsettled being alone.

“But are you happy that I’m living here? I don’t want to be a burden.”

“Yes, I’m happy to see you safe, and yes, it’s also a burden. But we’ll get through it.”

That night I skip my dance class. I can tell he needs some extra attention on this night.

As I stand over the stove stirring pasta sauce for our dinner, he walks up and stands near me, looking a bit concerned. Lurking, as he often does.

“What’s up?”

He hesitates. Then: “Who is your father?”

I stare at him. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“No… I’m not sure.”

“You’re my dad, dad. It’s you. Who do you think you are?”

“Oh, ok, that’s what I thought. I just I just didn’t know.”

I hate to think of who he thought I was before clarifying. His mother, lover, nurse? Clearly could be anything but his daughter.

Suddenly it all feels very fast. I realize that he cannot be alone for long. And he cannot be with me for much longer, either.

We’ll have a practice run soon. I have summer travel plans so I’ve given him the choice of a temporary assisted living situation in either Santa Fe or San Miguel, which he loves.

“Oh Mexico, for sure. There’s that great little coffee shop right outside your door right? I turn left and go up one block, he repeats.”

Yes! Also, I tell him I’ve found a nurse — but I’m healthy! he interrupts — Just to spend 3 hours a day with you, I continue. At $8 an hour I’m feeling more grateful by the moment.

Oh, that sounds really good, he says.

He’s stated that he wants to be in my apartment, which is in a great location — “that little cafe, I just left and go one block…” But If the nurse feels he can’t be on his own even for a few days, she’ll transport him to their facility. The hardest part will be metering out his money for each day. He can’t manage money, which, frankly, is why he’s in the position he’s in. So I’ve set up a special account from which he can only take out a limited amount each day. Just enough for food and essentials. The other bills I’ll cover from Santa Fe.

I’m glad he chose Mexico as I know he’ll be much happier there.

But it still feels like one grand experiment.

It’s ok, though. It’s time.