Thursday, December 3, 2009
waiting for lunch
When my father first lived in a nursing home, he didn't sleep a lot. I 'd look around at the people barely able to keep their eyes open and feel depressed that they seemed to be so barely aware of where they were, who they were.
As my father enters that stage I find it hard to relate to the man who's no longer always the man I'm so familiar with - the man who jokes and laughs and makes fun of himself.
He still greets me with a big, "Hi Sue!!!" or "Susie!" He's the only one who ever called me Susie.