Closing Day

So today we close on Dad's new house. I am going through the motions and trying not to let myself think about what this means. I know it is the right thing to do. It will be good for Dad to be so close to us. He knows it too. The house is a nice house. Great location. Wonderful neighborhood. Still. This is the beginning of a life-altering change, and I am responsible for it all.

So much work has to be done before he can move. So much work. I can't even get my head around it. I feel so very guilty for my kids' sake that their summer will be spent doing our basement and moving Dad. It makes me sad, but it has to be done. Who knew when we signed the contract for our basement remodel that Dad would make an offer on a house the next week? Well, it is what it is.

I think about him all alone in his family room on Northridge sitting in the dark, watching CNN. So often I wish I could pop in to watch a show or a ball game or drop off a plate of food. Right now, even, I have a plate from Monday, gone bad in my fridge that I just didn't get to him. Now I can. That will be good. On holidays, we'll be so close. He won't have to be alone on Christmas Eve day or for the Superbowl or Derby. He can go to the kids' games or come over for dinner. It WILL be good. I am excited about the possibilities of becoming so much more a part of my dad's life and having him involved more in ours.

I can't think about leaving Northridge, though. Not yet. The image I have in my mind is one of us in our slippery socks, running through the hallway and sliding across the living room floor. I think of Christmases in our corners, each of us checking out our stuff and of tables laden with food at parties and graduations. I remember summer evenings on the patio with Mom, coffee, and a piece of pie or Dad's garden loaded with tomatoes, beans, zucchini. I know these days are long gone, and no matter where Dad lives, those memories will always be with me.

One "memory" that gives me comfort is one that has never and will never happen. It is one that I wish I had, and one that I think Mom is sending me to let me know this move is right. It is so very, very real. It is a vision of her, sitting at the table in the Florida room of the new house. She is in her short blue robe wearing her white slippers, drinking a cup of coffee and eating a slice of cantaloupe and a piece of toast. One of the kids has come down. "Hi Grandma!" they say. "Well good morning!" Mom replies. "How are you today?" And they sit together and talk and share breakfast, and it is all good.

Guilt

Guilt is listing all of you father's stocks for sale (the ones he's spent his whole life acquiring) in order to get money for a down payment on a new house for him (one that he doesn't really even want to buy) because it is just a half a block away from you and will make it easier on you when it comes time to take care of him.