Decorating for the holidays. My Mom so enjoys her fantasy villages. I suppose I should appreciate that she has that going for her as dealing with my father’s dementia grows worse each day.
Their house has been sold, and closing is scheduled for January 29th. That is the one year anniversary of when they moved into the Legacy and our rocky journey of assisted living began.
As I spoke with my Mom about making lists of the things she knows she wants to bring over my dad asked what we were talking about. I told him we needed to figure out what we were moving over because we needed to have everything out by the end of January since we sold their house.
For the last 10 months he has been saying we should sell the house if they are not going back there. In his lucid present moments, he seems to understand that it’s the best thing to do. My Mom has been the hold out hoping they could go back when they “got better.” Every day Louie says, “This is the first time I’m hearing about it and I wish someone would tell me these things.”
Last week my brother brought over the papers for them to sign accepting the purchase agreement. Three things needed to be signed. Sheet #1 Louie asks, “What’s this for?” Scott said we sold the house and you need to sign this. “Oh you sold the house? How much did you get?” Scott answers him and hands him the second sheet to sign. Louie asks, What’s this for?” Scott said we sold the house and you need to sign this. “Oh you sold the house? How much did you get?” Scott answers him again and hands him a third sheet to sign. Same question, same answer all within one minute.
I can only imagine how terrified he must feel with his brain not working, yet clueless as to that fact. Unfortunately it’s intense anger that is his reaction, and that is hard on everyone, but mostly of course my Mom. So escape, no matter the way, is one way to plod on.