Entry from September 27, 2002:
I’ve arrived at my Dad’s. He’s not as bad as I had feared, but that’s a relative term. He really shouldn’t be living alone. His place is a mess. He’s also confused. It’s almost going to be harder to take action because he’s not as bad as it’s probably going to take to get social services or his doctor to act.
It’s hard to believe it’s been a year since I made that emergency trip to England. About the only useful things we did on that trip were to clean out spoiled food and arrange for meals on wheels. We had lots of fun, and we did get to spend some time with Dad. Today, Dad’s mind is no better, but at least he’s getting one good meal a day. I’ve never blogged much about him – there are lots of stories to be told – but I do miss him.