Walking Dad Home. My journey from child to caregiver.

  July 28th, 2024 We arrive at night. It’s about 10PM. We’ve been driving all day and have just pulled into Dad’s driveway. The exterior lights are on, but he’s nowhere to be seen. I know he’s in bed. He told me he would be by the time we arrived. I wonder if he even remembers I am coming.   I start to unload the back of the truck. My brother in law has been driving all day, and he’s exhausted. He leans against the truck, smoking a cigarette, surveying my progress. I start to hoist the collection of boxes and suitcases out onto the sidewalk. It’s dark, but I can see the overgrown yard. The light above the back porch burns through the darkness, illuminating the tall, dry grass. It’s almost 3 feet tall in most places. Dad has always preferred the natural approach to lawn maintenance, but this looks unkempt. Random tufts of weeds have erupted from the seams in the concrete path. They flutter in the hot breeze. I don’t remember Wyoming being this hot at night, even at the peak of ...

 July 20th, 2024 “I’m not asking for an official diagnosis.” I say, choosing my words carefully, trying to control my tears. “But in your opinion, what do you think is going on with him?” I can feel the doctor summoning himself to answer me. Suddenly my mind floods with recent interactions I’ve had with my Dad. I’m preparing to leave Colorado, where I’ve been staying with my sister and brother in law for the past 5 years. They’re putting their house up for sale, and it’s time for me to go. Without any other viable options, heading north to Wyoming to stay with my Dad has become the default choice. I don’t want to go, but it’s clear that’s what’s happening. I’ve been shown time and time again that Spirit doesn’t always make what I want a priority. Sometimes, in fact most times over the past 7 years, it’s been about what I need.   I flash back to a conversation just a few days prior. It was a Friday. Dad called me in a panic thinking it was the day we were supposed to meet in...