Conversations with Dad

I visited my dad the other day in his new facility. It always catches my heart to see him–I’ve never quite gotten used to how impaired he has become. As pleasant and inviting as the facility is…well, it is still an Alzheimer’s facility. You walk past a lot of people in various stages of the disease.

Once I get over that initial clutch in your stomach feeling, then I can face the reality. The new reality.

It’s really a very nice environment–clean, large sunporch, lots of paintings on the walls and a day filled with short group activities. A little like preschool.

There’s even a “snoozle” room for naps. A cozy looking couch in a semi-dark room, with soft music playing.

Dad was on the sunporch when we arrived, chatting with a lovely woman about who know’s what?! Makes sense to them…but no one else. However, his face lit up with recognition when he saw my sister and me.

Dad’s room is a corner room with lots of light. My brothers hung pictures that Dad’s aunt had painted of the East Coast (Dad is a died-in-the-wool Yankee). He doesn’t remember that his aunt painted them, but…still. It’s a nice touch.

My sister double-checked the stops on the window. Sure enough, Dad had broken them off. Fortunately, there’s a screen, but he’s on the third floor! My sister hurried down the hall to inform the floor manager.

Sheesh! It takes a village to manage this guy!

About Suzanne

Suzanne Woods Fisher writes bestselling, award winning fiction and non-fiction books about the Old Order Amish for Revell Books. Her interest in the Plain People began with her Old Order German Baptist grandfather, raised in Franklin County, Pennsylvania. Suzanne's app, Amish Wisdom, delivers a daily Amish proverb to your phone or iPad. She writes a bi-monthly column for Christian Post and Cooking & Such magazine. She lives with her family in California and raises puppies for Guide Dogs for the Blind. To Suzanne's way of thinking, you can't take life too seriously when a puppy is running through your house with someone's underwear in its mouth.


  1. Mocha with Linda says:

    I ache for you every time I read these posts. We just visited my FIL this past weekend. (Side note: I was caught off-guard by how much it bothered me to be at the facility so soon after my mom’s death, mostly in the area where folks were eating and a woman I remembered from this summer was there feeding her mom.) Anyway, at one point when we were all sitting in the lobby/living room, my FIL looked over at me and smiled and said “Hello little girl!”