Dad at Highlands Garden Village in the public garden he and Mom helped maintain.
On Friday afternoon at two-thirty, I parted with my 84-year-old Dad at security in Denver International Airport. I reminded Dad, ensconced comfortably in a wheelchair for the ride through the airport, to call me when he got to SeaTac Airport in Washington.
“I love you Dad,” I said, and bent over to kiss his cheek. “Thanks for everything you’ve done,” he said. I slipped the wheelchair attendant a five dollar bill, thanked him for escorting Dad, and they were off.
I turned and walked the other way, toward the parking garage and the mountains I would drive over on my way home.
I’d like to say that as I made my way out of the airport and drove west toward the shimmering line of peaks of Colorado’s Front Range of the Rockies the weight of a decade of care-giving dropped from my shoulders. That’ll take time, I think.
Dad and Mom at our house on a Christmas visit
I did think back on the day, my Dad’s last in Denver. That morning at the Westland Meridian where Dad (and Mom, before her death a year ago February) lived, I prompted Dad to say goodbye to his favorite staffers and residents. Everyone we met offered good wishes, and told him how much they would miss him. “Don’t forget you can always come back,” said one. Dad smiled broadly, excited about heading to Washington to live near my brother and his family, including five great-grandchildren.
“It’s nice to be loved,” I commented as we drove away with his suitcases tucked in my Subaru. Dad nodded. “Thanks for reminding me to say goodbye.”
The carousel building with colorful fall native grasses in the Plant Select Garden, Highlands Garden Village, Denver
We took a farewell tour of some of Dad’s favorite places on our way to the airport. First stop, the public gardens at Highlands Garden Village, the first place he and Mom lived in Denver. They joined the volunteer group maintaining the gardens there and continued even after they moved to another senior apartment building. As we rambled through, admiring the bright fall colors, Dad reminisced about the gardens’ evolution. (Thank you, Erica Holtzinger, for making the garden and the group so welcoming!)
The prairie at Denver Botanic Garden, a mosaic of grasses and wildflowers
From there we headed across the city to Denver Botanic Gardens, where we wandered the wilder edges, including Dad’s and my favorite dryland mesa and prairie gardens. We stopped to sit in the warm sunshine, bent close to look at the intricate details of fall flowers and grasses, listened for birds above the chatter of schoolchildren, and ate lunch at Offshoots, the gardens’ cafe.
When we left the botanic gardens, we headed east across the city and along the edge of the Stapleton Neighborhood, the redeveloped site of the old airport, to Bluff Lake Nature Center with its long views of downtown’s tall buildings and the Front Range, dusted white with the first fall snow. Dad and I walked the path down the bluff and turned upstream on Sand Creek to find seats on sun-warmed granite boulders by the stream with its line of short, fat Plains cottonwoods.
Dad “birdwatching” with my brother, Bill, and the five great-grands, Liam, Fiona, Porter, Colin, and Connor
We talked about how he and Mom explored Denver by bus and light rail (Dad’s worsening vision had made him legally blind before the move to Denver; Mom, colorblind from birth, had never driven), the places they found to watch birds, their trips to the mountains and Plains with Richard and me, and how much they had enjoyed their years in Denver.
Then we climbed the bluff to the car and headed for the airport.
Later, as I drove west toward the mountains, I thought about Dad’s next phase in Washington State, and blessed his spirit of adventure, and my family there for being excited about Dad’s arrival. As I turned off the interstate and onto the winding two-lane highway, headed uphill to cross the first mountain pass, I exhaled one large breath, feeling very fortunate to be headed home again–by myself.
i am so happy it went so well Susan…how exciting for your dad to have this opportunity to spend more time with Bill and the greatgrands- oh how very lucky they all are!!
Blessings dear one – you’ve done well
Doc Chery
Doc Chery, It is exciting for Dad, and I feel like it’s really a great move for him. Not easy, because he’ll be bunking with my brother and Lucy for at least a week, if not more, until his household and the moving van catch up with him. But once he’s settled, he’s going to love Panorama, his new community, and the residents there. Plus the walking trails, and the birdwatching within a short walk, and the theatre and the pool at the rec center and….. And me, well, I’m just feeling pretty relieved to have a break! (Knock on wood that it really is.)
i can feel that sigh. a turning toward change, susan, and maybe some time to focus on things you are treasuring deeply.
Velma, That’s exactly right! I am looking forward to the time to focus on my heart-work. And to figure out life on what Richard called “the financial plane” too.
Oh Susan…that is a tough one, isn’t it? It’s the +/- of life. Your dad is lucky he’s able to still make decisions such as these and also to be able to enjoy those great grandkids!!! AND…you have been so blessed to have him (semi) close by these past years. Time to share….
Sharon, I have to say I didn’t always feel blessed. A decade of caring for both of my parents, plus Richard’s dad, and Molly through her thyroid cancer, and then Richard through his brain cancer…. Yes, there were lots of wonderful moments in that decade, but all of that caregiving piled on top of itself was just too much for me. My Dad’s going to love having lots of family around instead of just me (and me 2.5 hours drive away, unless it’s winter and then it’s more like 3 or 3.5 hours), and they’ll love having him. It’s a good thing for all of us!
So, with Dad living in Washington State, with all the rest of the family—except for Molly, who’s in San Francisco—does it seem Woman Really Alone, even though Dad was three-ish hours away? Well, I guess he’s still as close via phone or internet—-that hasn’t changed.
After a decade of being a caregiver to others, will it feel odd, even if relieving, to no longer be so? Just because it’s at least a little welcomed doesn’t mean it isn’t also a little discombobulating.
Well, there’s still a plethora of family, hereabouts, even if not blood-tied. (And, even that notion of not having blood-ties is, itself, sounding a little suspect.) Hunh. I’m just now remembering the winter solstice when you and Richard were in Denver, and luminarias were still lit by others. Sometimes, Woman Not So Alone, perhaps.
ps. Oh, forgot to mention: I love the new header-photo of DBG lily(?) pads.
Eduardo, Aloneness is a complex thing, as you know. When I say “Woman Alone” I mean how it feels to me after almost three decades of having the closest partner possible, someone who shared most every moment of my life, along with all of my dreams and fears, my joys and sorrows. Life without Richard is a very different life than life with him. Life without the responsibility of making sure my Dad can live independently without hurting himself or others, and without too much frustration and with a sense of competence despite the serious limitation of seeing a whole lot less than he thinks he can, is also a very different existence. He may have been 2.5 hours away, but when things went wrong, I was the one who got the call, and who had to figure whatever it was out, whether from here, or by going there. I didn’t ask to be my folks’ caregiver for a decade, but it was what needed to be done. Now that it’s Dad by himself, it’s an easier task in many ways, so it’s definitely time to pass the responsibility on. And he’ll be happier with more family around. He’s social; I’m not. Which is a long-winded way of saying, I’m delighted to just be responsible for me right now. I love Dad dearly and I’m looking forward to enjoying him again when I visit! As for non-blood family, and this wonderfully supportive community, I’m fortunate to have such warm friendships, and I know it. Still, it doesn’t change the fact of being alone in the sense of without my heart’s companion. I am still adjusting to that and probably always will be. And yes, those are the lotus pads from Denver Botanic Garden in the header, and thanks. They seemed right somehow….
You come from good stock Susan. I loved the smiling photos of your mom and dad from earlier days. What a great caring blog this is. Just like yourself.
Pat, I love those photos too, and I am fortunate in my family, eccentric as they may be! Thank you. And congrats on your new writing assignment. I can’t wait to hear more about it through Story Circle Network!
I’m sure it will be strange not to need to do the regular trips to Denver but it sounds like your dad will have a lovely time up here! And you will have time to do the things you need to do for yourself, and that will be delightful or at the very least nurturing.
Lynne, It’s a huge relief to not need to make the regular (and expensive and exhausting) trips to Denver, and Dad is thrilled to be near family, especially my birdwatching brother…. The retirement community he’s moving in to is a really lovely place, with tons of activities, and a beautiful setting with great walking and birding nearby. (He’s at the south end of Puget Sound, just outside Olympia.) As for me, I’m still adjusting to no daily caregiving responsibilities after ten years of caring for one of my family or another (or two at once!). It feels good to just have time for me, as you can imagine! Wave in Dad’s direction for me now and again, would you? Thanks!
I did not realize all the health crises and the extent of your caring for others in past ten years and you with your own health concerns. You truly deserve this time to take care of just yourself and imagine how you want things to be from now on. May you get what you want and need.
Carolyn, Thank you for that support and encouragement! I am definitely looking forward to figuring out how life works when I’m just responsible for me, and not someone else (or several someones). My decade of caregiving taught me a lot about myself and how to set limits and let go, among many other things. It brought me the grace of knowing how to live with my heart outstretched and gave me many beautiful moments. I wouldn’t trade those years for anything, but I do admit to needing a break!