April 2016 brings...my dad back in hospital again

My dad - My hero. Taken in the late fifties.

Earlier this year I blogged about my dad going into hospital at the beginning of the New Year, and his exit from hospital in February. A bitter-sweet moment for mum and dad.  Although dad was deemed ready to leave the hospital he could no longer return to the same house they had known since their arrival in Canada.  Reluctantly, and with great sadness they made a transition straight from the hospital to a retirement home.  It seemed the perfect solution for my parents since dad could no longer handle the 4 flights of stairs that he magically ascended and descended for the 43 years they lived in their own home. A home we all grew up in as we made Canada our very own new home.

We realized that dad's illness had taken a great toll on mum too.  She never complained and their difficulties only strengthened their bonds and their devotion to each other.  Living in the retirement home would give mum the assistance she deserved with meals already prepared, and smaller household tasks that the home provided.

My husband and myself had to embark on emptying my parents' home and moving some items to their new space.  I was surprised to find myself breathless after taking on the four flights in one swoop in order to get to the bedrooms.  I was filled with a new sense of respect for my elderly parents who fought tooth and nail to remain in their home despite their frailties.  We could not imagine how they handled daily living in that environment, albeit cautiously but never-the -less they made it quite well up to the bedrooms, and down to the basement to do their laundry.

I re-lived so many years of memories woven into the fabric of their lives - the excitement of moving in when we first purchased the home, to the many birthdays, anniversaries, our graduations, engagements, weddings, and finally the births of our children as the new grandparents glowed with joy.  So many chats across the kitchen table. Mum always ready with a cup of tea and something to nibble on as we chatted. Our dogs by her feet knowing that mum's cupboards also hid special treats just for them.  The traditional Christmas Eve family gathering that took place in this home for the last 43 years would finally be no more.  I quietly accepted that it was the end of a chapter, but that the story was not over yet.

With grandchildren came a side of my parents we never knew - a more forgiving, gentle, lenient approach to raising children, whereby they looked like heroes and we looked like ogres.
My children would call them when they needed comfort, or another ear to listen to their hardships, joys and achievements. Mum and dad affectionately known as Duppy and Nana were the soft place of comfort that my children came to rely on.

After close to 2 months in their new home, dad has returned to hospital. His devoted wife by his side day and night.  I was with dad yesterday while we forced mum to leave for a few hours to give herself a break.

In those moments alone together dad always delivers a special gift to me.  One that is made up of words neatly tied up with love and courage.  A gift that leaves me warm and fuzzy, and somehow gels the meaning of life in a few words from the heart.

Our conversation went something like this.  His eyes fluttered open from a deep sleep to find me sitting by his bedside.  After realizing he was in a hospital bed he looked at me and sadly stated,
" Lisette I am giving you lots of trouble"
Jokingly I answered, " Dad, consider it payback for all the trouble we gave you as kids"
Dad's eyes got misty and he said " You were never trouble, it was my pleasure looking after you"

No response was necessary!