The Old Apartment

I had an unusual dream last night.  I dreamt that I was on speaking terms again with my estranged brother.  We were in Dad's old apartment.  They hadn't cleaned it out after all. 

Note:  In reality, Dad has been in the hospital/retirement home for over a year.  And, I saw the rented dumpster outside the apartment; they (Dad's other two sons) cleaned it out without letting me know they were doing so, without asking for help or input, and without informing me after the fact.  Aside from the fact that I should have been consulted/informed, they threw out, sold, or stored all my own things there that were at Dad's from my teenage years without saying a peep to me.

So, in the dream, my brother and I were going through the apartment and through Dad's things.  I found my comic books.  I was ecstatic, full of joy, to have been reunited with this little treasure.  I also found my old stereo. 

In reality, my thousands of comic books that were in cardboard McDonald's fry boxes are in a dumpster or listed on Kijiji.  The stereo was never there.

But, Dad also had lots of keepsakes, lots of memories too.  There were countless books.  There were models.  The USS Missouri model that I had put together so many years ago that he hand been hanging on to, even through the ten year period that we were ourselves were estranged.  It would be gone.

So, why now?  Why this dream now?  Well, two things I guess:

• I haven't heard from Dad in days, his phone is not being answered
• An 86 year old close Church friend is being put in a home by her kids

We were at her home on Friday night.  We went to bring her dinner, fish and chips.  It was expensive too, almost $100 for the two piece meals with fries.  But, as I pointed out, it was an investment in Barb, not in the fish. 

Could the connection be fries?  My comic books were in fry boxes.  We had fries on Friday.  Our friend and her daughter even offered us some of our friend's keepsakes.  "Take something that will remind you of her," she had said.  We took a bird feeder.

Both she and Dad are degrading mentally.  I believe our friend has alzheimers.  Dad has never been the same since he fell and hit his head.  Our friend forgot my name when we visited a week ago.  She was better Friday.  It was a hard goodbye.  She's moving up to the Muskoka area, to a home.  Dad, it's hard to have conversations with him.  His short term memory is very bad, and we repeat the same topics over and over again.  Although, I haven't seen him since before the third lockdown started.  We went out for coffee.  He desperately wanted to see the old RCAF base.  It's sad to see somebody who prided himself for so long on the sharpness of his mind have it taken away from him.

Dad was fond of hard teachings.  He would often make harsh statements that he felt were tenets for life.  Like, all true stories end in death, which flies in the face of his faith.  When my paternal grandfather was in a retirement home, Dad said that when one visited, they weren't visiting for grandpa; they were visiting for their own selfish reasons.  As, grandpa didn't know where or when he was or even who the visitor was.  I disagree with with this harsh statement.  But, I can't visit anyway right now with the lockdown.

Sometimes life just sucks.  Have a nice day!