My father-in-law will move from a skilled nursing facility to an assisted living apartment this week.

My husband and I are a bit frantic about figuring out what furniture and belongings from his large three-bedroom home will fit best in the new, tiny apartment, and about getting his nicotine stained and smelly condominium ready to rent out.

And we try not to panic over where the money to pay for all of this will come from.

My 10-year old son, Nick, spent Sunday afternoon with us at Grandpa’s home, helping us sort through a lifetime of possessions. Nick found treasures – a digital camera, an electronic keyboard, a bag of rolled pennies too heavy to carry, a telescope, and a tape recorder.

He hauled trash with us to the dumpster, hiking up and down the stairs about 40 times. He saw tears roll down both his parents’ faces when we stumbled into the past. Photo albums, of course. But how to explain my tears when I found the Neiman Marcus box with the chiffon head scarves of the grandmother who was dead before Nick was born?

Much went unsaid.

The thought crossed my mind many times that Nick might be doing this for us one day. I didn’t voice the thought. Too much of a burden for a 10-year old. But I hope the day stands out in his mind. I hope Nick takes in what good care his father is giving to his grandfather. That is a lesson to be learned.

We take care of each other. Always, forever, no matter what.

By Marianne Lonsdale

Labels: apartment, assisted living apartment, By Marianne Lonsdale, father-in-law, furniture, grandpa, skilled nursing facility

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