The Birthday

Monday was my father's birthday.  He was born in 1924-before television, computers, washing machines.  It boggles my mind to think of all he has witnessed in his lifetime.  Two ex-wives, six children and eight grandchildren later, he's still holding on.    

On Sunday a few of my friends drove up to Maryhaven with me for a little birthday celebration.  I made brownies, and we stopped to get Dad a Venti Frappuccino- his absolute favorite.  While I went to his room to get him, my friends set up in an unused room in the basement- actually the old ice cream parlor, and quite charming.  They made a huge "Happy 86th Birthday, Henry!"sign on the posterboard I brought and put out the cards and presents.  Dad was grumpy and combative when I first greeted him, and was suspicious about being brought into the elevator.  As soon as we stepped off, we were welcomed with a chorus of "Happy Birthday to you!" 



Post-chocolate slump!

I think he was more in awe than anything else.  He didn't seem to understand that it was his birthday, or recognize any of my friends.  His face lit up, though, when he saw the Frappuccino and he reached for it.  He said he didn't want a brownie, but that changed as soon as I started cutting them for the rest of us.  Settled with enough sugar and caffeine to sustain him for a while, he let me help with the presents.  The one activity he enjoys on his own is watching videos of old movies, so I had gotten Show Boat and The Sound of Music- two of his favorites- from 2nd Hand Tunes.  He saw the cover of Show Boat and smiled, actually laughed for the first time in months when I started singing "Old Man River," and even sung along for a few bars: "He don't plan taters, he don't plant cotton...".  Then one of my friends started singing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame," and the musical party had begun.  When he started getting agitated, we packed up and brought him upstairs.  We left some brownies with the nursing staff, put on Sound of Music, and said our goodbyes.  He was thoroughly worn out, but in decent spirits. 
On Monday, his actual birthday, I went out myself to visit.  He was dozing in his chair when I got there and I took his hand and sat next to him for several minutes, watching his chest rise and fall and thankful for every one.  His eyes fluttered and finally opened, and I wheeled him into the library.  For 45 minutes we sat, talked, and sang.  He was stoic and still worn out from the day before, but seemed peaceful.  He didn't remember the party or my friends, and again showed no response to my birthday wishes, but he did gobble up the leftover brownie I brought.  At one point Gretta, the head nurse's cocker spaniel, wandered into the library and Dad reached for her.  I lifted her onto his lap and there she sat, providing warmth, touch, and companionship. 

I couldn't have asked for a better birthday celebration, and I imagine Dad would agree.  I am so incredibly thankful that my friends came out to celebrate with us, and that I had some alone time with him.  My Hospice team has told me he loves watching the new movies, and Gretta was the figurative icing on the cake. Attention is all  I can offer him right now, and being able to share the time together was a gift for both of us.