Home.

If home is where the heart is then mine is 250 miles away on a hospital bed. A measure of peace has come to me after spending 2 nights and 2.5 days with Dad and Mom. Being there has not lifted the sadness that is deep in my bones. However, seeing Dad was balm to my heavy heart.

Some very lovely ladies are taking round the clock care of him now. Hospice is all that and more.
Mimi.
How can I say enough about my sister? I got a small glimpse of her life while visiting. I washed Dad's face Wednesday night with a warm cloth. I could tell by his body language that it felt good. This is what I learned - that Mimi's life is an oxymoron right now - she lives with sweet sorrow, painful joy. This is the gift that she receives and gives. 

The rest of us siblings come and go. We help as we can. Mimi is the constant. She oversees business decisions. When she is at their home she oversees Dad's physical needs. She soothes him with her touch -hand on his forehead, rubbing his back...and orchestrates his comfort. She feeds him. She loves him. The rest of us come and go. We do what we can. 

Being away is the hardest for me. Not knowing what is happening minute by minute. Amanda declared that being there and giving care was an addiction. I understood what she meant but I don't think addiction is the right word. It is more like a need to constantly be helping. It makes us feel better to be doing something. Like in some way we can make his road just a fraction smoother, if we just do the next thing and the next. 

Mr. Macho and I are traveling to see some of the grandchildren today for a good dose of happiness and baby sugars. Just what the doctor ordered.