Moved to Tears
Mom was transferred to Parkwood Hospital for rehabilitation yesterday morning. I was having our laundry tub replaced in the afternoon so I was unable to visit until this morning.
I took 3 blog posts in to Mom. The one about Dad’s workshop, the one called “What it means to live my life honouring my twin” and the one I wrote this morning. By the time she was finished she was “moved to tears”. Mom and I are both criers, we’re emotional. When she was finished she said “these are good”. She didn’t have to say anything because I already knew. If I can make Mom cry they’re good!
When Mom phoned yesterday she told me her room number and said “I think it’s on the 5th floor”. In the back of my mind I thought there was something familiar about that number and I got off the elevator and realized “Yep, if I turn right it’s Palliative Care”. That is where my Dad was when he died. I haven’t been to this Hospital since he died almost 6 years ago. AND it will be 2 weeks on Friday until the anniversary of his death.
Mom was taken down to the dining room. It is very structured. You must eat in the dining room if you are able. So I had to go down to the cafeteria because when I arrived she was having a consult with occupational therapist and we hadn’t even had a visit. The OC asked if I knew where the cafeteria is and I said “my Dad was in Palliative Care I think I’m good”. When I got down to the cafeteria I decided to sit outside. They have a beautiful walking trail and gardens outside. This was really tough too because June 26 is the day we went outside with Dad. The day sticks in my head because my Dad hadn’t been outside at home or in hospital and my brother and his wife were down and he asked the nurse if he could go outside. As I’m writing this tears are streaming down because this was our gift. This was our Dad. The man that enjoyed his garden. The memory was so vivid when I was sitting outside.
This is why June is not an easy month for me. The talk shows are having segments on grilling for Father’s Day, the perfect gift for Dad and my Dad isn’t here anymore. It’s even harder since I’m home alone. Thank goodness for telephone, texts, email and Facetime.

2 thoughts on “Memories

  1. Pingback: Moved to Tears by “The Artist” (2011) | Ramisa the Authoress

  2. I had a similar experience, only I was the patient around the corner from Palliative Care where my dad died in 1988. Your post brought it all back again. The difficulty in entering the hospital, the memories of my dad, all of it. Tears too. Thank you again!

    Love, gail

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