After Mom called and told me she could not “do it anymore,” I knew I had to help her put my father in a nursing home. I won’t go into details about the process, but after visiting a number of nursing homes, some quite nice, some horrendous, Mom chose one on the lower end. Because, although she had long-term care insurance, she was worried it wouldn’t last long enough if we spent more money.
Getting him into the nursing home took us being deceitful to him. We told him it was temporary and I think he believed us.
He believed us until mom brought this photo of him and his youngest sister. He told her he knew he’d die there.
He did die because he was there, less than a month after he moved in. Eight years ago, today.
He was a handsome man, not that you can tell by any photo taken of him in the last ten years of his life.
Cedar Waxwing's 365 