In speaking to my mother over the past few days, I've learned that my father's now in a rehab facility, learning to walk again with some assistance, getting visitors from their friends and church community, and seemingly in good spirits. Mom says he's doing well.
Mom said she thinks of herself as a realist, who likes her truth unvarnished, but both my excellent wife and I were struck speechless when we heard her describe herself this way. I think of her as a person who thinks that if you ignore an unpleasantness long enough, it might go away; who thinks that if people were more polite and stopped using so many swear words, the crime rate would plummet overnight. So I have no idea what "he's doing well" means.
She's bought my father more flannel pajama pants, which suggests he's not going to need the khakis he's been wearing for decades. She's also discontinued the internet access that only he used. How well is he doing?
However, she has good support from friends. A neighbor who managed an appliance store is going along with her to buy a replacement for her dryer that has chosen this week to die. She's told us about some other friends who have come to her aid. But she also spoke today about eating lunch alone in a coffee shop, and how tired she is.
They're almost 700 miles away. It's a burden, but (lord, in whom I don't believe, forgive me) it's also a relief.
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