Dearest,
Today, you slept in a recliner in the television watching area through my entire visit. I tried to coax you awake with soft words and kisses, but you only pushed me away and went back to sleep.
I guess you had been up all night having an adventure, and I'm so glad you are now in a place (unlike the other three places) where the staff understands that this is a normal behavior for you and others like you. And it's okay with them. So they let you sleep if you want to, and wake up when you want to, and wander around if you want to, and eat when you are ready to. I am so grateful, and they have been wonderful so far.
But I am still holding my breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I really, really hope it doesn't, for your sake as well as mine. Getting used to new surroundings is difficult, and I don't think I can take one more thing. Seriously. As each day goes by, I realize more and more just how worn out I have become. Just how much the stress and worry and sleeplessness have affected my body. And my mind.
So, after a long while sitting next to you and watching you snooze, I got the lap quilt you were given at the American Legion as a thank-you gift for serving your country. I wrapped it around you to keep you warm, because your skin felt very cool in the air conditioned room. I tucked you in gently, waited by the door until a caregiver could come by to open it for me, looked back one last time to see if you were still sleeping, and left.
Until our next visit, then, my darling. Whether you are awake or asleep, I'll be there.
Tender kisses,
Me
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