The Next Chapter in an Unfolding Love Story

I wish there was a way to turn back time. I wish there was a way turn it back to a time when my dad was healthy and could walk hand-in-hand with my mom, and when his quick witted-charm could inspire her, while making her giggle at the same time. I wish there was a way to reverse the damages of the devastating stroke he had 16 years ago.

But there isn’t. And after 16 years of taking care of my 78-year-old dad, she can’t do it anymore. She’s 75-years-old and it’s just too hard for her to handle.

My parents have been married for 54 years and have had eight children and 13 grandchildren. Their love and adoration for each other is beautiful and unusual. The night my dad met her at a dance in 1955, he told his best friend that she was the girl he would marry, and the rest was history. But I feel powerless as I witness the next chapter of their love story unfold.

Over the past year, my siblings and I have noticed that it was getting harder for our mom to take care of him. She was really struggling and we knew that the inevitable would happen soon. There was going to be a time when she physically and mentally wouldn’t be able to take care of him. So we talked to her about it at length and began to research nursing homes.

We didn’t know much about them or what it would cost, so my mom and I set out to explore some of the possibilities. My dad was going to need to be at an assisted-living facility, where they would help him with everything, including medications, dressing, bathing and eating.

We looked at a lot of eldercare facilities over the summer and after many tours and financial evaluations, we found one that we thought would work. It was nice without being too depressing, suffocating and hospital-like. The staff appeared capable of caring for my dad and the ambiance was cheerful.

Since then, with my dad’s dementia worsening, my mom was told by his doctor that it was time for her to get 24-hour help. She needed to consider moving him into a home. Never a thought or a consideration before, she knew that it was time and with the doctor confirming it, the decision was made easier.

The place that we found over the summer had a studio available (a lot of places have waiting lists). It was a large room with a lot of sunlight and a handicapped shower/tub. He could move in whenever we were ready.

I watched as my mom carefully chose the stuff he would need in his new room. She was quiet as she laid each item tenderly in his bags. She had bought new bed linens and bedside tables to match. She picked out pictures of the family and paintings to hang on his walls. When she was ready she called the moving company.

I got to the house as the movers arrived. There wasn’t a lot going on the truck, so it didn’t take much time. Once everything was packed, I stood in the living room, empty now without my dad’s recliner. Suddenly, I began to cry. I took a deep breath. I walked into the front yard to gather myself and stop the tears. I didn’t want my mom to see me break down. She had enough on her plate. I had to get hold of myself and remain positive, even though the sadness was overwhelming.

At the nursing home, we unpacked, put the linens on the bed and hung the pictures. The room really shaped into something nice and comfortable.

It has been 10 days since my dad moved in. He seems content but, honestly, sometimes I don’t know if he knows the difference. We certainly do.

My mom can’t sleep at night. She tosses and turns, wondering if he’s cold or calling out for her. Do they hear him? Is he OK? Is he lonely?

I try to visit him every day. “Oh, I love you so much” is the first thing he says to me every time I see him. God, I love him, too. But this is really hard. This is gut-wrenching. My parents’ last “goodnights” aren’t to each other anymore. My mom lives in a house all by herself.

I know that with a little more time we will all adjust to my dad’s absence. My mom will eventually start to sleep regularly again. My father will eventually acclimate and find enjoyment in the home’s daily activities. Soon, their lives will be reunited under better circumstances for both of them.

I can’t stop time but I have to believe that the time that is left will now be better for both of them.