We would celebrate come what may.
My Bert was celebrating a birthday. Born under the sign of the Lion the pussycat relationship was at the forefront most of the time. Despite living under the thrall of Alzheimer’s it was time to celebrate another year. My Bert’s inner child is most apparent on his birthday.
The restaurant was alerted.
The amazing staff at his home assured me he would be ‘spiffy’ for his outing. He was.
The mobility transportation was booked. The guests were all lined up. Covid-19 curtailed the numbers, only eight in total and even so, physical distancing was the order of the day.
Yet, I worried. What if the transportation was late or my Bert not in the mood or gets an anxiety attack. There were so many ifs to consider.
The worry was a wasted emotion as everything went exceedingly well. As per the norm, my Bert rose to the occasion. He chatted, ate, drank, and kept smiling at everyone. He knew Corbert and Amy and me. The others were ‘friends’ and that was all he needed to know.
He surprised one by exhibiting his usual alpha male tendency by squeezing the hand offered to him. It was so much the norm for both of them they had a good laugh.
Before leaving the home the young ones had decorated his room with a large peel and stick mural. Given the macular degeneration that has left him legally blind things have to be large and brightly coloured and well defined. The mural was aligned for maximum viewing space as depending on where things were placed there could be a best place for viewing for him. The wheelchair needed to be at an angle for him to see it. He touches the mural and says: “Pretty birds. Woo lots of butterflies too.”
He is happy. So am I. Here is some new scenery for him to look at. Each morning he sees the mural it is new and he is delighted.
I read the cards. He laughs at the funny ones and he wants to know who gave it to him. The only answer he needs is that it is from a friend. I name them and add: “If you saw them you would know them.” He laughs at one of the cards from the kids which is actually from their dog. They know he loves to get cards so that is an extra and he loves it.
Is this the last birthday celebration? That is my anxious nature asking. It could be. I do not know and I have no control over that. As I observe his pleasure, his delight at the funny cards and his slow but happy smile when he finally comprehends the sentiments expressed, the question becomes moot. Instead I begin to wonder what the next birthday celebration will be like. I have every intention to celebrate it, given the chance.
What is surprising and most welcome is that on returning to the home, my Bert looked around and said: “Home again, at last.”
What a difference. When we had entered into this home just over two years ago I never thought my Bert would ever utter these words. But I know he is sincere. This is his home and it is familiar territory. I am spending the rest of the day with him. That’s even more reinforcement that he really is at home. My relief at his acceptance is more than that. It also alleviates the discomfort I still feel when I see his shrunken world. Each day as I leave after visiting, he may ask me where I am going. I tell him the truth. It could be to an appointment, grocery shopping, or to get gas for the car but often it is “back to the apartment” which is my physical home. To my Bert it is the other place that I look after. It is not ‘home’ because he is not there.
He is correct. Home is where we are together. We went out and had a great time with family and friends. We celebrated his birthday, his day.
The Meander: Sometimes home is not where you were born, or where you chose to live, or where circumstances dictate. Sometimes it is simply where the heart is.