The Cabin

After my mother passed away, my brother and I wondered what might become of our father. We were all shocked by her sudden death that came only 23 days after being diagnosed with cancer. She was the heart of our family, married 50 years to our father and every bit his rock. We weren’t sure if he’d survive the heartbreak, but survive he did.

In the ten years since her death, he’s seen a lot of changes in our family and has had to acknowledge a few changes in himself. He’s been able to watch his grandsons grow up, graduate from high school and proceed through college. He was able to celebrate Calvin’s college graduation. He’s been able to see the beautiful heirloom diamond that was once owned by his father reset as Vicki’s engagement ring. We expect him to take a seat of honor at the wedding next June.

He’s been able to see Henry become an important part of my life and has welcomed him as part of the family.

He said goodbye to his beloved home in Florida in order to move with my brother and his wife to North Carolina, mostly for reasons associated with aging. In the past four years his mobility has declined but his mind has stayed sharp. His favorite phrase right now is “Growing old is not for sissies.” He turned 80 earlier this year.

He can be pleasant, kind, joyful and loving. He can be grumpy, ornery and stubborn. My brother and I have a favorite phrase, “Being the child of an aging parent is not for sissies.”

Earlier this month, I spent a week with my Dad while my brother and sister-in-law went on vacation. I took leave from work, packed a week’s worth of things to do to keep me busy and settled in. Dad is pretty low-maintenance. He likes to watch TV, read the paper, play Rummikub, eat and nap. Which fit well with my agenda, because I planned to watch movies, read, play Rummikub, cook and paint. The week reminded me of the slow, easy-going respites I enjoyed so much in the Florida home. Just no kids and no pool! But the feeling was the same: warm, comforting, cloistered, safe. I used to call Florida my sanctuary, but it wasn’t Florida, the feeling came from being near my mother and father.

I started a painting while staying at Dad’s, a watercolor of a cabin in the woods in an autumn setting. I was working from a photo, but it wasn’t any cabin in particular, I just liked the colors. As I progressed from day to day, I noticed Dad looking at the painting a lot and once he offered a compliment. I could tell he liked it. At the end of the week I asked him he would like to have it. I didn’t have to wait for the answer. I had it matted and framed at a local frame shop. I was happy I could leave behind a memento of our week together.

So what does this chapter have to do with a child leaving home? Maybe nothing, maybe everything. We leave home and then one day we realize that we’ve become home. When my children come back to the nest, I hope it will always be a place that is warm, comforting, cloistered, safe. Like a cabin in the woods.