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She noticed things were off. Gordon started paying attention to himself again, carefully selecting his clothes, brushing his hair, checking his breath, that little spring was back in his step, and his eyes had started to shine again.
“Who is she?” she asked, not blaming him, but nevertheless unable to ignore the pain.
“What are you talking about?!” He looked at her, bewildered. Offended. But her eyes would not fool her.
“I don’t think this is the life we envisioned for ourselves,” she replied with her sad voice. “We live in one house, but not together. We love each other, but that’s not enough.”
“Is this our way of telling me you found someone else?” he shot back at her, fear growing in his eyes, but she shook her head and countered, “I feel like there is no-one in my life.” It was fully intentional that she tried to hurt him a little; to create a gap between them that would help him to move on.
“I am right here!” Gordon replied, despair sounding through. “I never did you wrong! There is only one woman in my life, and that is you!”
“I know,” she acknowledged. It was true; there was no need to doubt his intentions, but blood is thicker than water.
She took a deep breath and said, “In your whole life, there was only me. And in my whole life, there was only you. It had been like that since the day we could walk, and nothing ever challenged that.
“However,” she continued after letting out a deep sigh, “the world is much bigger than two farms with a ditch in between. Maybe it is true, maybe there is one person you are destined to be with, and maybe we never met that person because we never looked beyond our yards.
“Don’t deny there is someone who, without any doubt involuntarily, caught your eye and now makes your heart beat faster. Don’t deny,” she went on, raising her voice a little, “there is someone who has entered your mind and claimed her space, without asking permission. Don’t deny that you no longer think of me, when you come.”
Gordon’s face paled…
***
Her parents didn’t understand; they wanted to talk about it. They wanted to invite Gordon and hear his side of the story. But they didn’t reject her a room in their house either.
The divorce went relatively smooth—no kids, not too many emotional belongings to fight for. She got the large car and half of their savings while Gordon had decided to keep the house for now; going back to his parents was no option, and even after months he wasn’t ready to move in with whoever. So he kept most of the furniture, and they agreed on an arrangement to compensate her over time.
Only after she got settled with the new situation and finally started to look beyond herself again, she noticed her mother wasn’t being herself. Her mother initially denied it, but after some pressing, she finally admitted she wasn’t feeling too well those last months.”
She was shocked—last months, her mother had said—and immediately pushed her into making a doctor’s appointment.
She accompanied her parents to the doctor, and also joined them on the hospital visit that followed. Her brother too joined them on the day of the outcome.
Somehow, they all anticipated the bad news; even so, the reality of it still came as a shock. There wasn’t much that could be done; the tumors had grown too big and spread too far. All that was left was trying to keep the quality of the remaining time as high as possible.
Overcome with grief, all moved on to her parents’ house, but once there, her mother had already put herself over it. “It is hard to know that I will leave you in such a short time,” she said, “but we all know there is a time for everyone; apparently even I am no exception.
“I can only say ‘thank you all, and especially thank you, Frank,'” she continued, followed by an embrace to her husband. “Thanks to all of you, I’ve had a wonderful life, and it is the full truth that I have nothing left to wish for, when it concerns myself.”
Her father rubbed his eye, but then nodded and kissed his wife’s cheek. “It’s easy to give your best when it concerns someone as good, as beautiful and as lovely as you,” he mumbled, fighting hard to keep his voice straight. “Those were mainly good times we shared together, and during the more difficult periods, we always stood side by side together, anticipating the good times to come back to us.
“It may be true that all great wishes have been fulfilled,” he continued, “but it would have been the perfect ending, to stay with you until we both passed one-hundred-and-one, and then to breathe our final breath together.”
“It is as it is,” mom said in a business-like kind of way. “I can only be grateful for all the good times I can see behind me, and I would appreciate it if we could use those last months ahead of us to turn them into even more good memories, to fill them with the love and happiness I’ve always known around me, and to make every minute worth living.”
That became her father’s mission; they drove around Bycasino the country visiting family, going to museums, plays and concerts, exhibitions. They attended every performance, every activity of their grandchildren. Their thirty-seventh wedding anniversary was celebrated with the complete family, but her mother’s birthday had to be celebrated in a more intimate setting; slowly, the strength left her, and she could no longer keep the overview with too many people being present around her.
Although she was still staying with her parents, always nearby, there was very little she could do to support her mother; her father took care of everything, including the ever-increasing personal care her mother required. It had always seemed impossible, but in those months, their love seemed to grow to even greater heights.
It melted her heart when her father came home one day, carrying a large bouquet of roses.
“You didn’t forget Valentine!” her mother welcomed the roses and accepted them with glee, together with the accompanying kisses from her father.
She felt a little embarrassed; it had never crossed her mind that it was Valentine’s Day. She should have thought about it; it had always been an important day in her parents’ lives—a day on which he doted her with even more care and affection than on any of the other days in the year—and perhaps she too should have added a little something to that this year.
Her mother was more than satisfied with her father’s gift, though, and she would swear she saw her mother blushing from the words he whispered in her ear.
***
It came as a great surprise when her mother one day asked her if she could drive them to the hospital for her scheduled check-up.
“I’m a bit worried about your father,” she confided her. “He seems to become more and more uncertain while driving, and although he won’t ever admit, I think it becomes too much of a task for him. He too is getting a bit older these days, and perhaps the continuous pressure makes things even worse.”
She could easily take a day off. Already anticipating that things would get worse and that her help might one day be required, she had worked extra hours over the previous months. Her colleagues were informed and fully co-operated to make things as easy as possible for her.
Her father seemed slightly offended once he realized she would take his place behind the steering wheel, but didn’t resist and took, without complaining, place on the backseat next to his wife. After the first time, that was accepted as the way it was; either she or her brother would drive from that day on.
Fortunately, unfortunately—I am not going to judge—it didn’t take too many following appointments. There was a brief period in which pain and sickness had taken over control, but quick and merciful the day came that her breathing stopped. It was completed; everything had been taken care off.
Of course, a period of grief followed—nothing should replace that period of mourning—but in accordance with her mother’s wishes, they picked up their lives and preserved her mother in fond memories.
Almost all picked up their lives; it didn’t come as a surprise that her father remained lost. After all the care he had given, all his time doted on his beloved one, the emptiness and purposelessness hit him hard.
Pete, her brother—his son—tried to distract him by taking him to the farm, but he felt redundant; an additional burden on Pete’s shoulder in a time that farming was in troubled water anyway. Reading had never been one of his favorite ways to spend his time, and it was obvious that the newspaper in his hands was only a mere distraction; an attempt to be less of a burden for his family. The only time he lighted up again, was when he was surrounded by his grandchildren. He worked hard to fill up the gap his wife had left, and was even more caring and interested than before. But it was obvious how it drained him from energy.
***
She also had picked up her life as good as possible. Looking after her father, keeping him active with short trips and visits, also kept her sufficiently distracted to ignore her loneliness. Or, at least, to keep up the façade. Yet, it came as a shock to come home one day and to see a large vase filled with red roses.
“What’s that?” she asked her father, both curious and worried. She couldn’t think of anyone she would have wanted to send her anything at all, let alone such a preposterous bouquet of beautiful roses.
Her father only gave an exaggerated look at his watch. She followed his example and didn’t see any clue—what’s unusual about 17.48h—and then he clarified himself: “The date…” He even managed to force a thin smile.
February 14—still didn’t ring a bell.
“It’s for your mother,” he finally helped her out. “It’s Valentine’s Day, and I want to bring them to her.”
She felt both relieved and ashamed; relieved that they weren’t hers, but ashamed for again forgetting about Bycasino giriş it, while her father had not.
“Do you want me to join you?” she asked him, uncertain of his feelings about that. “Of course I will bring you there, but would you like my company? I could buy some flowers as well, but maybe you would rather be alone for a while?”
“A young girl like you shouldn’t waste flowers at the cemetery at Valentine’s Day,” he kindly chided her. Then, with some hope sounding through in his voice, “Did you send anything, or received anything yourself?”
She shook her head. Even two years after her divorce, she still didn’t feel for opening up her heart. Or, more closely to the truth, no-one she’d met so far had ever come close to becoming part of her. And that didn’t even worry her a bit; she wasn’t busy thinking about that at all.
Maybe she was meant to look after her father now, and spend the time after that period by being alone. She had peace with that thought. She never considered herself capable of filling the void her mother left, but perhaps she could honor her by giving the best care possible to her beloved husband. If she could lighten the burden of her father, and help him to live a worthy life in memory of his beloved wife, she would be satisfied. Both of her parents deserved that. She had had her own chances of happiness, but that was in the past.
The parking place of the cemetery was filled with cars; it somewhat embarrassed her. These people—old, but also young—had lost their beloved ones and were probably suffering from that every day, while she had given up on love without putting up a fight at all; had she been wrong in her decision?
There were a few people like her, waiting in the cars; would they be the new partners, trying to lessen the burden of the people left behind? Maybe secretly happy for the place that had come free, available for them to take over? She tried to think how she would feel about her father getting a new partner. It seemed impossible; preposterous. No-one could possibly replace her mother. But could anyone replace her, in her task to lessen her father’s burden of living the remaining years without his wife?
She shook her head; she didn’t need those mind-games.
She had no idea how much time had passed when her father returned to the car. She could not recall what she had been doing; it was a blur. Her father seemed cheerful; satisfied with how he had honored his wife again. She felt empty and ashamed for everything. But still capable of cooking a meal doing justice to the memory of her mother.
***
In the days after Valentine’s Day, her father became more silent; he wasn’t being himself. First, she blamed it on the emotions, still hidden and invisible but probably stirred up by Valentine’s Day. However, things didn’t improve, he became shaky, shriveled up, coughing and groaning, and when she finally checked his temperature, she panicked.
Her father, though, refused to see a doctor; it was just a cold. She tried every approach, but a few days in bed should do the trick.
The next Monday, the doctor diagnosed pneumonia. Nothing to worry about, the doctor assured them, but he did take some blood samples, and later that week he prescribed antibiotics.
Her father recovered, but it took a long time and a lot of his strength. And even a month after the doctor had diagnosed him to be recovered, his eyes remained dull. Something seemed broken; lost inside him. Had he given up?
Her father, always impeccably groomed before, now sported an irregular stubble, and when she’d point that out to him, he would feel with his hand and give a tired smile; “Oh yeah; forgot about that.” The indifference brought her close to crying.
More than once, she noticed how he had incorrectly buttoned up his shirt, giving him that sloppy look. One time she had missed it and her brother had to point it out to her, making her want to dissolve in shame. She was not up to the job.
“Why don’t you change your underwear,” she confronted her father, who flat-out denied. “I always change,” he replied, seemingly unfeigned, as if sure of himself. “Every day. Either after showering or in the morning when I get out of bed.”
“I don’t think so,” she countered, annoyed by his cheap little lies. “I don’t find them in the basket.” The worst thing was, her accusations seemed to confuse him; they seemed to make him feel bad and corrected, embarrassed and belittled, but he didn’t improve.
In the end, when nothing else worked, she started putting the clean underwear and socks in place in the evening, and also forced him to select a clean pair of outerwear every few days.
***
“Didn’t you drink your tea this afternoon? What did you have for lunch?” Her father was lethargic, and she felt like she betrayed the promise she’d silently made to her mother. Even preparing a lunchbox for him was no guarantee that he would eat; she was failing. In the end, there seemed no other Bycasino deneme bonusu solution than to make sure that at least he’d get his breakfast. As a consequence, she had to wake him up in the morning, get him dressed, and make him eat before she’d leave.
She felt impotent, powerless, particularly when she realized he wasn’t taking his medicines either. Not knowing what else to do, she decided to call her brother to come over and talk about it. She needed him there, as she didn’t want to do anything behind the back of her father.
While her brother was there, her father straightened his back, somehow looked stronger and more alert than ever in the months before, and managed to convince her brother that she was exaggerating. The things she mentioned were exceptions and he promised he would make sure it would not happen again. It was a difficult time, but he too could see she was right; he had to take better care of himself, and he would. Her father talked with so much conviction that he even managed to make her believe it. But things did not improve.
***
Her father was carefully holding his hand when she came home. Alerted, she quickly came to check, and noticed an angry red welt on his hand. He had burned himself while making tea.
“Did you cool it with cool water?” she asked, and he gave her a puzzled look.
“I…” he started, but then his demeanor changed. “Of course I did.”
She took him to the first aid, but there he answered the same question with, “I think so.” The nurse gave her an accusing look before continuing her check-over.
***
“He almost ran under a tractor!” Pete, her brother, said, still looking shocked. Her father gave her an embarrassed look that persuaded her to embrace him; to protect and comfort him.
“What’s going on with you,” she sighed, feeling disappointed, but above all, sad. Then she noticed a tear in his eye. “You’re not as young as you used to be,” she kindly chided him. “Perhaps you should take a bit more distance from those machines at your age.”
As usual, these days, her father didn’t respond.
“I’m not sure if I can still have him around,” Pete confessed where their father couldn’t hear it. “Actually, this wasn’t the first time, although it had never been this close. Maybe he has become too old to have him around, walking by himself. I don’t have eyes in the back of my head, and if I constantly have to check where he is…”
She acknowledged the problem. But she also realized it would be another door that would be permanently closed for her father. His world would become frighteningly small if he would have to give up his visits to the farm. And in addition, it would put even more strain on her own shoulders.
Already, the extra hours she had saved the year before had been used for visits and appointments. As long as her father was on the farm, someone was looking after him; she felt increasingly more worried about the time he spent at home alone.
“Can’t he just stay inside and be with the children?” she tried, but Pete sadly shook his head. “You know how things are between Thea and him,” he sighed. “Already she blames me for having him around too often; they just don’t match in personality.”
She had to stay strong, even though she was on the verge of collapse. She had promised to take care of their father and couldn’t back out the moment the situation started to get a little more difficult. It was her father, after all; had he ever backed out when it had concerned them?! Had he ever backed out when it concerned the care of her mother?
For a moment, she considered mentioning their father’s lethargy, but decided against it; what could Pete possibly do about that?
***
It was their family doctor, at one of the scheduled appointments, who dropped the ‘D-word’. She was shocked, offended, but when observing her father, she saw something of a resignation coming over him.
“I hate it,” her father confined her once they were back home drinking their tea. “I hate it, and it scares me to death, but I already noticed I’m not as sharp as I used to be. I keep forgetting silly things and it scares me; I don’t want to end up sitting in a chair in a room unfamiliar to me, screaming and crying, no longer remembering my own family. I don’t want to end like that!” His eyes glistered, and his hands shook a little. “I may not want it, but there is nothing we can do about it. And then it is better to face it and be honest about it; I am losing myself.”
“Let’s first await the test results,” she tried, unable to find words of solace. “You still seem incredibly up-to-date, and any person loses it a bit when their life-long partner disappears. Let’s not immediately assume the worst.”
Of course, they called her brother, who immediately came up with examples of situations that had recently occurred, and that agreed with their father having dementia. She didn’t want to hear it and refused to reply when her brother tried to link her own experiences to that awful disease. She didn’t want to think about it. But at night, her thoughts went their own way and haunted her.
***
The outcome was ruthless. He tried to stay strong, especially in the company of her brother, but she could see how the impact of this news shattered her father.
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