Trucks

It was a good day today:  I was able to get my dad out of the house and he even enjoyed himself eventually.  He's been wanting to go to the national cemetary in Sarasota, where veterans and their wives have the benefit of a free burial lot and tombstone.  He's been wanting to do this for months but kept cancelling and I finally just said that we're going.  When we started out, he was in a really bad mood and barked at my mom and I said, "Man, you're in a bad mood."  He said, "Yeah, I am" slamming the door closed.  I said, "Well, nobody wants to hear that mess..." and he interupted me and said, "Sharrooonnn....." as his voice escalated into a dramatic thunder of anger and I put my hand up and said, "Whatever..." and stopped because I'm still scared of this guy.  If looks could kill, his would definitely had wiped me out right then and there in the car.  He wanted to go check out this cemetary, and yet he didn't.  He admitted later on in the drive that he was superstitious, and I said, "Well, I'm not, so we're going."  I'm not sure what he meant by being superstitious - maybe if he went to visit a cemetary, he would die the next day - I really don't know.  But he's been wanting to do this so I just insisted it would be today.

It was a nice cemetary, as far as cemetaries go.  The tombstones are all the same and lined up in straight order.  We spoke to the people in the office and they gave my parents literature and it was all very simple.  They didn't even have to do anything beforehand.  All that happens, is that the funeral home gets a copy of my dad's discharge papers and they contact the cemetary and they take it from there.  I think it's a great benefit for veterans and they have these cemetaries all over the country.  My parents had already "bought" plots to be in a Jewish cemetary, and I told them to just sell the plots and go here.  They decided they would donate them to someone who needed them who were not in a position to purchase them.  I thought that was a better idea yet.  The whole ordeal is very surrealistic, although I know it needs to be taken care of.  You talk to and about them as if they have already died and that's just plain weird.  My grandmother had planned a "picnic" at a park and invited my parents there and they had no idea it was a cemetary park until they got there.  My grandmother thought it would be "nice" to have a picnic in the cemetary and show my parents where she decided to be buried.  For this and many other reasons, I want to be cremated.

After our excursion to the cemetary, we stopped and had dinner at a restaurant.  The three of us walked slowly into the restaurant:  my parents, each with their walkers, and me with my cane.  What a sight we must be.  The food was good and we wasted time because we weren't due to my brother's until 6:00.  After dinner, my father tried to locate the restroom and almost ended up in the kitchen.  I was behind him yelling, "Go to the next hall and turn left, dad.  No, the next hall!"  He has double vision and can hardly see so I offered to lead the way, but no, of course he could do it himself.  I don't know how he managed to leave the restroom and find my mom, but he did.  I'm sure he probably knocked into people along the way, but he just keeps barreling through like a bull.  He has tunnel vision and won't stop until he gets to his destination.  He does the same thing in the house, so you have to get out of the way quickly if he's coming by, or he might just run you over.

We went to Danny's house because I am watching his dogs while he's gone this weekend and he needed to show me the ropes on how to take care of his 5 dogs.  He has a giant Mastiff, a beautiful Collie, 2 yippee Chiuhaua's, which I don't know how to spell, and a Shitzu, which could also be wrong.  He showed me where to find everything and my parents went home in their car, and I took his truck back to their house and will return tomorrow after he leaves.  The truck reminded me of when my oldest son was just a little boy, probably about 2 or 3 and he couldn't say his "TR's" but he said "F" instead.  He loved trucks and one day as we were driving somewhere, I was sitting in the front with my dad and Jason was in the back with my mom and he saw a really big truck and kept yelling, "Look mama, a _uck, a _uck!"  My dad, thinking the child was doing this on purpose, yelled at me and told me to shut him up.  I just looked at him like he was crazy and said, "Well, how am I supposed to do that??"  Poor Jas - it took him a year or two until he could pronounce the "TR" sound...

His truck is a gigantic truck, and it is very difficult to get into.  First I have to throw my purse and cane in the passenger seat, then I have to hold onto the grabber thing, pull one foot up, then the other one, all the while balancing on this little step thing next to the door.  One false move, and I would quickly be in a heap on the ground.  It must look quite clumsy and probably comical as I swing myself into the seat, thanking God that I actually made it.  Getting out is just as tricky, as I slide very slowly down to the ground until I am in a standing position.  He told me that I can use the truck as much as I want.  However, after I make it to his house, it will be parked there until he comes home, unless there is a dire emergency and I have to leave.  I can only hope that doesn't happen.