SAD TODAY

But only when I look at a recent photo of my father. Am fine with the early ones, when I was little, or in my teens. There's something about seeing him older and looking more like the man I knew when I left Becket last May, the one I took care of, and fed, and cleaned up after and sat in the kitchen with my glass of wine late at night writing and hoping to Christ he stayed asleep so I didn't have to do dinner at midnight and then being annoyed when he clumped out there with his walker, looking lost and confused. I feel sorry for that man, the one who died with his diapers on and ugly little cotton gown hiked up. That's what's making me sad. I just put an older photo now of him my desktop (computer one). Will see how I do with that.

Peg today told me she "hadn't known he was dying" and complained about "all the money" Hospice has cost us and that she never knew that Hospice coming on board signified Odd being "terminal".

I went over it all, patiently, for about the hundredth time. Finally she muttered something about cremation and said she couldn't talk and hung up. Upset. She'd started out bright and cheery. It was only when I (politely and kindly, for once) intimated she might have things a little ass backwards that she got the needle. Feel slightly guilty leaving Bonnie and Terri to cope with her but then again they're getting paid to do this. 

Bonnie says they have already, with Peg directing, moved Odd's desk into the office (making 4 desks in there, can't wait, should be really easy getting around in there now…) and the piano back into the hallway but no mention yet of what Daddy's "bedroom" has or will become. Hospice has already collected the hospital bed, desk trolley thing, 2 wheelchairs, a walker, the oxygen machine and the tanks.

Told Bonnie to pay Dery's funeral home bill, I imagine they're waiting for payment before sending Odd's body to be cremated and I can't bear thinking of him on some slab (wearing whatever crap outfit Peg picked out). Terri suggested donating all his casual clothes--sweatpants and so on to Laurel Lake Nursing home. Nothing ever comes back from the laundry there to the right person and am sure they could use extras. 

Bed now. France tomorrow.