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 Saturday January 11, 2025

                                7:15am

After approx four months in the V.A. nursing facility, my dad was able to come home. He was discharged on December 24th.

It has been more than a challenge getting everything prepared for him to come home.  There was a lot of cleaning, a lot of junk and a lot of getting rid of things that were prized possessions that were either eating up his finances or a danger to him and or others. 

We had no idea if he would notice any of the changes made to the house.  

He has always been very sharp and observant and very picky about how he liked his house.  Although the the house didn't have clutter and it appeared to be immaculate, the invisible isssues with the house is what’s the killer. 

Coming home, first thing he noticed were small details that we had no idea that he would pick up like the certain decorative items removed that were old as time and certain decorations that even I didn't notice of my sister that she brought up from the move. 

Christmas Eve was a bit rocky as we had to explain to him that the only way he was able to be in the comfort of his home is if someone responsible would be with him 24/7 to take care of him.  Having someone literally pack up their entire life and travel close to four hundred miles is a lot.

He is slowly getting used to the change as he gets more into a routine regimen.

There are times when he is as sharp as the young Dad we used to know and times when we are wondering, “Where the hell did that came from!”

While my sister is getting the rest of her things, I'm staying with my dad for the next few days.

Last night when I was changing him, he was watching an old western on the oldies channel. I have no idea what is with older men and westerns, but here we are.

There was this one commercial for a show starring some actor I was unfamiliar with.  He mentioned how he enjoyed his movies.

He said, “He was a good as hell actor.  He had some bad ass movies!  He didn't take no shit from anybody. Women loved the hell out of him. No one knew till later though, he was a f*ggot.”

“Hmmm,” I replied.

“Yeah, just like that Rock Hudson guy who died of AIDS.”

At this point I’m not going to lecture him on political correct terms.  The man said what he said.  It is not as if I didn't hear him use the term for gays often when I was growing up.

For him I don't think he ever paid attention to how hateful the term can be for certain gay men.  It was just another word to describe someone.  The crazy thing is that homophobia in the Black community runs so deep that even those who don’t make a conscious effort to be that way, use some form or expression that is cringe worthy to LGBTQ.

I often found it confusing how he could use such words knowing his son is gay.  But again, it goes back to what I mentioned.

The night is done and it has been a long day. I don't know what tomorrow brings.  I just know that I will be so glad to go home to my husband and sleep in my own bed.