Dad's house is officially on the market now and we're struggling with it almost as much as when we determined that he needed to be placed in a nursing home. These are huge decisions that many of us need to face at one time or another, but when it's at least a decade earlier than ever imagined, it makes it even more difficult.
We're supposed to be the kids here. Our brother's not quite 30-years old. I don't think something like this was even on his radar. My sister and I say all the time that we don't feel like the adults, yet we've been having to make so many decisions on dad's behalf. We always went to him for the advice. Dad always knew what to do - especially financially. Now he can't balance a checkbook nor do we let him have one anymore.
Over the last several months we've seen just how devastating this disease is. Watching someone unravel and deteriorate before our eyes has been difficult to say the least. Cleaning up after the mess has been even more so. We're not talking just elbow grease here, which there's been plenty of, but all the creditors, taxes, HOA fees, even gas stations and grocery stores have him listed as owing money to them.
So this house has to sell. We need every penny and then some. Every time we let ourselves get upset that it's come to this, we tell ourselves this is how it has to be. Dad is safe, fed, has round-the-clock care and activities, while still keeping a very familiar routine that he had in his own home. We are so fortunate and proud that he's a veteran and in good hands at the VA Home. They treat him with respect, unlike some of the questionable characters he hung out with at his home. There's finally some relief and reassurance for the family.
It's ok now, Dad. We've got this.
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