Granddad is getting worse on the daily. He fell and cut his
arm about a week ago now and it is still bandaged up, blood seeping through
every couple of hours. It’s scary to think about getting older. You become so
frail, and broken.I wish we could alleviate his stuggle.
He was talking about David again last night (his youngest
deceased son). He kept seeing him walk through the house and would try to
follow him, only to open the door to the front bedroom and find our dogs
inside, tails wagging. No David.
He started getting frustrated when Stephen told him it was
just us three in the house. It’s not the first time he’s hallucinated, but he
was pretty adamant about David being there.
He finally went to bed a little after midnight and all it
took was me walking by his bedroom to get him out of bed, off looking for “the
guy who just blazed passed” his room.
This is the week he is supposed to go to a facility. We’ve
been waiting for this to happen, not because we’re tired of taking care of him,
but because it’s no longer safe to do so. I don’t know if it’s all an earful of
smoke. I don’t know if he will actually go anywhere or not, and at this point,
I’d almost rather he didn’t. It feels like the end is so close, I just want him
to lie down in his comfy bed after a dinner with people who love him and dream
of Grace. I want so much for his dignity to be preserved.
None of this is fair. This is fucking bullshit.
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