Rachel stayed with Daddy for six months after Mama died, helping him adjust and taking care of the house, the laundry and assisting with activities of daily living. He could still bathe and dress himself. She drove him to visit friends and accompanied him to church. When she told me she had invited his lifelong best friend, Erwin Edwards, over for lunch several times I was delighted. I knew Daddy reveled in Erwin’s companionship. He was another true man of God and also a widower.

I had to laugh when Rachel told me that she had introduced these two eighty-five-plus year old gentlemen to garlic – usually not a staple in Southern cooking. Both Mama and Erwin’s wife were great traditional Southern cooks but garlic was not one of their go-to seasonings. After the initial shock of its pungent flavor, and with Rachel explaining garlic was a cousin of the onion, both men took to this new culinary addition quite well.  

Rachel was concerned that Daddy often seemed sad. He would sit in the front room for hours, reading and rereading the numerous sympathy cards he had received after mother’s death. 

Rachel returned home in the spring of 1996. My three sisters who lived close to Daddy – Rodema, Rachel and Anna – took care of him once Rachel was back in Brooklyn. They prepared his morning and evening meals. Before leaving for work each morning, they would place his lunch in the refrigerator with instructions to heat it in the microwave. He often enjoyed food and fellowship at their homes and Rodema made sure he got to church every Sunday and most Sunday nights.

I would call at least once a week, but Daddy had never been one to spend too much time on the phone; the conversations were short and sweet. The sisters kept me informed of any health concerns. Considering the considerable loss of losing his life-long helpmate, he appeared to be doing well. We continued to visit about every six months. He was always happy to see us and was eager to sit on the front porch and have long conversations about Mama. 

During a visit in the summer of ’96, I got up early to prepare breakfast. I was disappointed to find Daddy sitting in the front room, heavy drapes drawn, sifting through the wicker basket of sympathy cards. I sat down and we talked about Mama awhile. 

“She sure did have a lot of friends,” he acknowledged.

“Does it make you feel better to read those cards?” I asked, being careful not to let my voice betray my concern.

His answer surprised me. “Not much else to do.”

Okay. He needed some distractions. He was lonely; probably bored. Physically, he was no longer able to farm. His “bad knee” kept him from venturing too far from the house. Loss of his driver’s license greatly curtailed his social life. During our week-long stay we took him to visit friends and family members. We went out to eat, accompanied him to church, and took him to Burlington’s City Park, with its famous Denzel Carousal. He even rode the sleigh on the carousal. I did notice he appeared a bit dizzy when we disembarked, but he seemed to enjoy the experience.

“Do you remember bringing me here for my birthday when I was a little girl?”

“I did?” he questioned.

He had. Many times.

Television was not my dad’s cup of tea; he occasionally watched the news and some game shows. But he had a favorite Christian radio station in which he took pleasure. He loved listening to the old hymns; and one gravelly voiced-preacher was his favorite. He came on at lunchtime every day and Daddy always listened to his impassioned sermons.

Not long after our visit, Daddy celebrated his eighty-fifth birthday. In September of 1997, he turned eighty-six. When we visited in the early spring of 1998, I immediately discerned that something was different about him. He must have heard the car when we drove up his long driveway, because he was standing at the door when we pulled around to the back of the house to park. 

As Randy and I and the kids piled out of the car, his smile was welcoming. I think he had missed us.

As I stepped closer to the porch, it occurred to me, “Daddy looks like a homeless person.”

He was unshaven. His clothes appeared disheveled. When I hugged him, he reeked of body odor. Now Daddy had been a farmer and got plenty dirty on his job, but when he came inside, he always showered and put on clean clothes (thanks to Mama). His appearance shocked and bothered me.

He returned my hug, but his strength seemed diminished; surely not the strong bear hug to which I was accustomed. As we began to talk, it was evident that Daddy’s abilities to remember and reason had declined. We had arrived in the early afternoon. I asked if he had eaten lunch. He said “no” so I checked the refrigerator. His lunch was there. I took it out and sat it on the counter, preparing to put it in the microwave. He picked it up and carried it to the table.

“Let me heat it up for you,” I offered.

“Why? It’s okay like this.” 

I assumed he had not been warming his meals.

He still knew us. Most of his actions and words were appropriate; but sometimes he would say or do something that just didn’t make sense, and he did not seem to notice.

Almost instinctively, I began to understand that Daddy should not be living by himself.

That night I brought up the subject with Randy. It was as if God spoke to both of our hearts simultaneously. He was leading us in a new direction. The next day we started making plans to move back to North Carolina.

Before Mama had died, she and Daddy had deeded the home place to Randy and me. It only seemed natural that we would be the ones to move in and become his caregivers.

So, how do you know when your loved one should no longer live alone? 

Common sense combined with a thorough assessment of person and surroundings should help you determine the answer to this crucial question. Be aware that some people with early dementia are very good at compensating (act in such a way as to conceal a mental deficit). Also, if you are used to seeing your loved one on a frequent basis, changes in their behavior may not be as evident if you only see them occasionally.

On your next visit, begin by greeting your loved one with a lingering hug. Do you notice a weight loss or gain? Is the hug returned or prevented by weak muscles or other frailty? Is there an unpleasant body odor that denotes a neglect of personal hygiene? Notice changes in appearance such as unkempt hair, being unshaven or dressing inappropriately. Is you mom’s gait steady or does she stumble, grabbing at furniture to keep her balance? Can she sit down and get up without difficulty?

Compare mental capabilities with those exhibited at your previous visit. Does your dad call you by name and know who you are or does he seem confused about your visit? Engage in a conversation that will reveal if he is thinking clearly. Ask about daily activities, what he had for breakfast, and if he has had any visitors. Disinterest in usual activities may indicate he is lonely. This is a common emotion, but many seniors are unwilling to admit it. Severe inactivity may be related to depression.

Look around the house for signs of neglect such as a stack of dirty dishes in the sink or unsanitary bathroom conditions. Is clutter becoming a hazard? These may just indicate a need for assistance with housekeeping. However, if they are ongoing and increasing in significance they may suggest your loved one is no longer able to live alone. 

Check cookware for signs of scorching. Peek in the refrigerator with an eye out for spoiled or outdated food. If there are stacks of unopened mail, with permission, inspect them to see if bills are being overlooked. It is also a good idea to check for mail that may be sent with the purpose of scamming.  A daughter told me of a less-than-ethical organization that sent her mother an appeal every month. Thinking it was a bill, her mother wrote a check for the “suggested amount” shown on the “invoice.” 

If your loved one appears to be doing well enough both physically and mentally to continue living on their own, there is still one very important question to ask: would he or she know what to do in the case of an emergency?

If an electrical plug sparked and caught the drapes on fire, what would be their first reaction? If a tornado warning interrupted their favorite television show, would they know where to go? It may be possible to rehearse these scenarios and advise what actions should be taken; but you would need to make sure they are capable of actually following instructions. In case of fire, would they leave the house immediately or try to put the fire out? If their clothes caught on fire, would they be physically able to “drop and roll”? 

Just being concerned about the living arrangements of an elderly loved-one is not going to help the situation. It is your responsibility to make wise choices that will be in the best interest of his or her well-being and safety.  

Caring Quote: “If you learn to listen for clues as to how I feel, instead of what Isay, you will be able to understand me much better.” Mara Botonis in When Caring Takes Courage