I arrived at my parent’s and as we were finishing up the grocery list (yes, the only thing on it again was club soda), my mom asks if my dad will just go with me. “I just don’t have any energy today,” she says.
The one thing I do hope for each visit is to get them out of their apartment (maybe it will squelch the urge to take a cab to their town house). We usually have fun on the grocery store trips. We talk her into joining us, but once we get there, she says she doesn’t feel well and wants to stay in the car.
On the drive back she comments that she doesn’t recognize anything. “Oh yeah, there is the place I used to work with our boy,” my mom comments. My dad agrees but I have no idea when she would have worked in the industrial complex we passed and who “our boy” is. I stay quiet.
When we get back she is out of sorts. It’s only 11 a.m. but I suggest she go rest to see if she will feel better.
Later in the day, one of their friends calls to express concern about my dad. She mentions they didn’t come to dinner last night. I realize that my mom who is down to 100 pounds now, probably didn’t eat last night. She is now about 5’8″. I know she ate this morning, but I can only imagine what happened the night before that kept them from going to dinner. Concerned.
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