Well, Dadís in the assisted living place and is getting orientated to his new room. Itís a smallish studio so I think heíll have no problems doing so even with his bad sight. I feel great relief. Itís like a two hundred pound weight came off my chest. Seriously, no lie. Heís as safe as I can make him and his social security check will cover two thirds of the price. Even if he went absolutely broke the difference could be covered by us kids, even if that is unlikely.

Dad is monetarily broke by Dadís standards, not by ordinary peopleís standards. If we give up trying to get the shop jump started and profitable when he gets down to 100 thousand then he still has enough for 100 thousand months which is about 8000 years and I donít think heíll last that long!

Today is the first day Iíve had off in about a month (not counting all the weekends, and I worked a few of them too) and itís time to write wedding invitations and get the mail at my PO Box and start working on my wine and cheese shop. Iím not sure how Iím going to handle my shop plus Dadís business, Iím his part time bookkeeper at this point, but I suppose we just have to find a qualified Real World (thatís the name of his accounting package and itís a dos based antique) bookkeeper if my business gets off the ground at the same time as Dadís does.

I have to say though that I was so proud of my Dad yesterday. We just up and plunked him down at his new apartment with no real warning other than he had visited the place a week ago. At first he refused to go in but we made it plain that he had no choice and we wouldnít bring him any place else. So he got out and used his walker to navigate into a new and unfamiliar place, all the while complaining that we had kidnapped him.

Once he was in the apartment he realized that his furniture and clothes had been moved there and I told him that he would never be going back to the Randolph apartment again. I also told him, ďDad, you will never, ever, again have a long, lonely Sunday. Here you have people.Ē That was his major complaint about his life. I saw him slump in defeat as he took it all in and that slump Iíve only seen at times when he thinks a disaster has happened. My heart fell and I almost started crying. I thought that I had wounded him beyond recovery. But then an amazing thing happened. Within a minute the father I know came back!

He stood and demanded, not asked, ďWhereís my bed?Ē then ďWhereís the bathroom from my bed?Ē ďWhereís my table and chairs, my bureau, my dishes, my refrigerator? And finally whereís my phone?Ē Then he tested his lifeline button and made a test call to the main desk. Heís blind and after we went through it all about three times I felt that he was at least initially orientated. My Dad is made of steel with an iron will. He accepted the inevitable and then tried to master it. I could have cried with pride. Even while failing he excels. Not one tear, not one recrimination against us despite the kidnapping references.

There were no ďThank youísĒ but there were no ďYouíre a bad daughter/son either.Ē And thatís about the best I could hope for. Heís an ornery, cantankerous, independent man who wants what he wants when he wants it and anything else would have meant we broke him.

Dadís going to be OK! YAAY! And a little cheer for me too because I am ecstatic that heís finally safe and cared for and itís not me 24/7.

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