Went to visit my mom. She’s going through a rough patch. When we arrived her beau was sleeping. She woke him and he made his way to the dinning room. The poor man... It broke my heart to see him like this. He’s lost so much weight, and above all, he’s yellow. Completely yellow. What do you say to someone, who’s yellow from head to toe, so frail that he can barely stand on his own, that he’s looking well? I don’t think so. I said: “you looked tan”. Yeah, talk about foot-in-mouth moment. It made him laugh, at least.
I went there with the idea to talk to him, to thank him for having been there and caring for my mother for the last nine years. Within five minutes with us, he made his way to the bathroom and once he came out he went back to bed.
It’s sad to see, and even sadder when I hear him say things like “once I get better”… he won’t… My mother knows it, we know it, and he does to but somehow hope is still present. We all know we’re dying, each day we live is a day closer to our death, but we don’t know how close the end is. He knows. He’s a good man, and I hate to see him suffer… Mrs. D. is doing more than just lurking, she has a good foot in the door, and I can only anticipate some hard times ahead for my mother.
Being an only child sucks at times like these, no one to spread the load with.