Selling Everything
My first story for my book about Dementia
The elevator doors opened. I stepped out and turned left.
“Oh boy,” I thought. “Here we go again.”
As I strode down the hall, my father was in the hallway of his 2nd-floor apartment at the assisted living facility where he lived.
He was trying to sell his belongings to a neighbor. He pulled out what he could carry himself from his apartment and had it spread out all over the floor of the hallway. Suitcases with his clothing, laundry baskets filled with random things, a night stand, groceries, and bath rugs.
I approached the hallway sale. “Dad, what are you doing?”
“I’m selling everything so I can go home.”
The poor lady whom he was trying to barter with bid him goodbye and smiled knowingly at me. I gave her a kind nod.
“Dad, you can’t sell your stuff in the hallway. Let me help you bring it back into your room.”
I filled my arms with his belongings, handed him some stuff, and we brought everything back into his room.
I had been there just the day before and had organized everything for him. As I entered his apartment, I sighed heavily as I took in the mess. The apartment was trashed again. He had couch cushions overturned, lampshades off the lamps, every piece of clothing he owned packed up, and bed sheets off the bed.
I started straightening up again, just like I had the day before. It was becoming a daily occurrence. He rambled about something, but as usual, it was an explanation that made no sense. He complained about being there, the invisible people living in his room, and the neighbor being too loud at night.
As I was working, he followed me around and finally said, “Are you hungry? Do you want to get something to eat?”
I smiled a half-hearted smile of frustration, exhaustion, and familiarity. His asking me if I wanted to eat was his go-to question.
“Yeah, Dad, let’s go eat.”
I stopped cleaning and got him his Vietnam Veteran hat. He never left the apartment without it.
As we walked down the hallway towards the elevator, he asked, “Did you work today? How are the kids?”
The elevator opened and we stepped on.