My dad is planning to move. Not now, but soon. He decided that his house is too big and that it's best he move into something smaller. He's mentioned moving to a smaller house for years, but in the last few months he's decided that he should live in senior housing... and at a place that he can transition into assisted living, if needed.
He's been purging for awhile, but he's now also prepping his house to sell (and has already put the Wisconsin farm on the market which is something else I'm struggling with). With my brother gone (and buried on the farm he plans to sell) and my sister in another state, it leaves me to assist him with this. Well, not me alone. Some of my step family are there for him, and that's greatly appreciated, but they don't have the same attachments and memories as I do.
It's hard to see my dad get rid of things faster than I'm ready for him to. I know this isn't about me, but I'm slowly catching up to where he is. I keep reminding myself that these are just 'things'. A certain object may be gone, but I still have my dad and my memories.
Jesse, Riley and I went over to my dad's house this week and hauled stuff out of the house and repaired other parts. I came home with a couple things: a desk that goes with Riley's bedroom set, some antique cobbler shoe repair stands, and some dutch shoes my dad picked up in Holland (during one of his weekend excursions while stationed in Germany during the Korean war). There really isn't much left besides that.
I spoke to my sister later and informed her of the state of dad's house. She pretty much asked me to save what I could. Grab anything.
We plan to visit some senior apartments soon, although my dad notes that he may still be in his house next winter. It's hard to imagine him still living there even next month at the rate he's going.
At any rate, he said he wanted to live in the same city as me... because his doctor is here (and I'd like to think it's because I'm here). I don't have a problem with my dad moving - it's the accepting that he's not going to be around forever that's the tough part. I can't help but think that he's preparing for more than just moving with all this activity... and to put it simply, that just sucks.
On the upside, if he moves closer to me I see us having more time together... more dinners together or walks over lunchtime. And in the end, spending more time with my dad far outweighs the loss of all those 'things'.