There's Nothing Really Keeping Me Here....

My sister and Dad at our first lunch out in his new neighborhood

For  months, our focus has been on making Dad's life as safe and engaging as possible. He lost the love of his life on September 19th. For the first time in 62 years, he would be living alone - and he lived 36 miles away from me. 

We had  24/7 caregiving, so we knew he was safe. Our primary caregiver was everything you could hope for and quickly became family. But weekends and vacations had us cycling through nine caregivers over five months. I drove out every Wednesday morning, stayed over night and went home Thursday afternoon. I returned to spend the afternoon every Sunday. He was doing great - but life could be much richer. And I longed for him to be closer to me.

We are lucky. Dad is grateful and compassionate. We enjoy each others company. On a Sunday visit, he expressed concern about the wear and tear on me - the driving, the stress. And he said the magic words - "you know, there's nothing really keeping me here anymore".

I'd had my eye on what looked like a wonderful assisted living complex four blocks from my home. Within days, I'd placed a deposit on a one bedroom apartment. In less than a month, Dad had moved in.  In between, our emotions were on a roller coaster. Dad questioned the decision many times, saying it felt like a step back. With his short term memory loss, it felt like we made the decision over again and again. My amazing sister came down from Canada and spent almost a month away from home. With both of us spending much of two weeks staying with Dad at his home, there were nights when we went to sleep in tears. When all together and filled with love, he had such a wonderful life here. We had to trust that it would be richer still when he was close by. 

It is overwhelming to feel this responsible for someone you love. The emotions are much like when your child is born. Dad had been there for us. Now it is our turn to be there for him.

The move went well. We know we are lucky - we were moving Dad so he would have more time with us, not less. He will actually have more independence in his own apartment with staff nearby. With a 24/7 caregiver, he was coached through every second of every day and there were frequent naps and a lot of TV.  Now he would need to get on his own, get to meals at the appropriate time, manage the remotes for himself, remember which second floor apartment was his. Dad wasn't worried. We were terrified. But if a greater level of caregiving is needed, it's available. We can add services as needed.

The move went smoothly. The apartment felt like home quickly. The staff is wonderful. But my sister and I left the first night feeling depressed and anxious. We raced over the first morning to give Dad the assistance that we were sure he needed - only to find that he was already enjoying breakfast in the dining room. That morning he took a 9:30 exercise class with 20 other seniors. The long hallways and walk to the dining room and parking lot that I was so concerned about have resulted in the lowest blood pressure readings that we have seen in five months. 

We are coaching his independence and Dad is embracing it. There are new habits that will take time for him to adopt - the medical alert emergency pendant, how to open the new pocket watch, the remotes for the TV and ceiling fan lights.

We still have more tasks ahead. We've been able to devote this first week to being with Dad much of his waking hours - a little less each day. He is four blocks from my home and I can spend time with him daily - but not all day. And two or three hours with me still leave nine or ten to fill.

His new apartment is very familiar - filled with what he selected to bring from his home. This began as his idea and we have not put his home up for sale yet - he can go back if he doesn't like it. The complex holds family support group meetings which I plan to attend to get guidance for the next chapters. For today, Dad seems happy and we feel relieved. And yesterday we had the thrill of introducing him to my own friends and neighbors and beginning his discovery of his new neighborhood. Life is good.

Dad seeing his new bedroom for the first time