Unwritten Love Letters

The holidays are over, and the days are getting longer, little by little. I am longing for Spring. I always choose this time of year for indoor projects, and my evil eye fell upon the basement. We live in a split level, so the basement is more of a neglected downstairs room where the furnace and oil tank happen to live, with the washer and dryer as neighbors. I decided that this year, as one of my New Year Goals, I would do something about that basement. Paint it, organize it to my liking, and create an area for my foshizzle...my household binders and the paperwork of running a home. Separate from the bill paying paperwork, but just as important. Right now, the owners manuals for my major appliances are all mixed in with Steves major appliances. I prefer to have an area dedicated to my home.

And so it shall be done.

I suppose I am not exposing a secret anymore, to tell you that my Father in Law was diagnosed with Dementia/Alzheimers. Steve, as the elder and the executor of his Dads estate, Is responsible for Pops care. He had the job of deciding:

A) What was the Very Best thing for Pops, and
B) How to accomplish that.

What we decided was that Pops needed to be in a residence where he would have care 24/7. Help remembering to take his meds. [actually having them given to him, not relying on him to remember] A beautiful living environment. Meals served in a dining room, not a cafeteria. The level of social interaction that He chose from day to day, from being with a group of people he shares a lot of interests with, to deciding he'd like to stay in his room that day and watch a pool tournament on T.V. Safe and secure, and practically in our own backyard. It took a long time, and a lot of tears, but we found the perfect place. A Beautiful residence, more of a dorm than a seniors residence. One of the few ways you could spot the difference would be the median age of the residents. A grand Manor house converted to an assisted care facility. Once the "getting used to this" period was over, Pops came to love his home, and he feels uncomfortable being away from it for too long. As it is minutes from the Shack, we can go get him whenever we want, and take him home when ever he is ready.

What does this have to do with my basement?

I'm getting there.

When Pops made the move, some of his belongings would not fit in his room, and others he did not remember. We took these things, boxed them up, and put them in the basement, to be properly gone over and packed for long term storage. There wasn't much.

Today was the day.
We brought the boxes upstairs, and began the "what do we do with this, how do we protect this" dance.

And there they were.

Papers.

His high School diploma, from the same district we, and our children, graduated from. Report cards !! Oh, our Bill was a bad boy. Well intentioned, but a bad boy in a good way.

What grabbed me by the throat, were the letters. From OUR children. To their Grandpa. Oh my sweet Lord, from when they wee Babies. [I was always big on the kids writing to their Grammas and Grandpas, from Thank you notes to "just because" letters ....even to the Grandparents we lived next door to.]

Pops KEPT those letters. I Lost it when I read a letter from my son Tone, to his Grandpa. Tone was considered special ed, now you would call it "in the autistic spectrum". It did not stop him from being mainstreamed and graduating high school on the high honor roll [nor from going to college this fall :o) ] but as a baby and a young child, he was different. I had a "hands off" policy with the kids and their communications with Grammas and Grandpas, if the kids offered to let me read the letter great. Otherwise, it was sent off unread and unedited by me. Believe me, sometimes I worried about that policy, wondering what the kids were telling our parents :o)

In the middle of frustration, overwhelmed by the renovation, paint in my freakin hair, this stopped me in my tracks. That letter, written by Tone, in second grade:

 

[This was 1996]
[Dear grandpa and Joannie
How are you doing?
I am great!
I have a play kitchen!
It made out of wood
I have a peppermill !!
I am in second grade
My favorite chef is Emeril !
Please come see me soon I miss you !
Love
Tony]

Some people have actually had the balls to say to me, oh, we LOVE our family, we would not THINK of putting them in an assisted care facility. Well, I'm glad that works for them. I've been around the block a few times. I've seen the worst that can happen when an Alzheimers patient is home cared for. And the guilt the "loving" family can feel when an Alzheimers patient acts out beyond what the family is capable of handling. All I have to say to you is...you MUST obey your highest calling. And THAT would be, to do the right thing by your peeps. Whatever that means to you,...and to them.

We did that for Pops.

He is happy, healthy, and knows he is loved.

He sent an unintentional love letter to all of my kids today. A Love letter he is not capable of writing anymore. Which makes those saved letters all the more deeply special.

Thanks, Pops. We love you too.

[A BIG P.S.....I found the batteries for the pedometers. Remember that blog a lil while back? Wherein I took an accordion folder and labeled it with all my lil electronic  cords and accessories? Well, Hot DAMN, I had the batteries AND the owners manual for my pedometer in a section labeled "pedometer". Stop rolling your eyes, you've done that stupid shit too]

~Nobody grows old merely by living a number of years.  We grow old by deserting our ideals.  Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul.  ~Samuel Ullman

January 2013:
~National "Get Organized" Month

Jan 2-8
~ "Someday We'll Laugh About This" week

January 7th:
~National Tempura Day