Yes, folks, it was 85 degrees yesterday but Dad was still wearing his wool hat, jacket, and corduroy pants. He's always cold. (He never did like air conditioning, much to this daughter's dismay when she was growing up.)
Some days he looks so tiny and frail, it puts another little crack in my heart. Too fast....time is going much, much too fast.
Then he smiles and winks at me, and I forget to be sad for a while. I love those winks.
At the Memory Care facility where Dad lives, we've been told for years (and I do mean years) that residents can't have their bed pushed up against a wall; there must be room for access on both sides. We had wanted to try it because Dad was occasionally falling out of bed. We especially wanted to try it when my father fell out of bed and fractured his shoulder. But, "No, it's not allowed."
Guess what greeted me when I walked into his room today?