Depressing: Preparing for the Move

I got a call from my dad this morning. He said he's made arrangements to move my Mom into the home next Wednesday, the day after I arrive to town. And granted, my flight doesn't land until 8pm. I tried to talk to him about getting her room ready, but he didn't want to hear it because he said he has too much paperwork to get through. So, I decided to just go out and get some stuff to make her room nice. I found info about the assisted living facility that my dad choose by looking it up on the internet. I then called them and spoke with someone for ideas. It turns out that while my dad told me that they furnish the rooms, that they actually give you the choice. And he chose to just take whatever they give him instead of looking for stuff that she'll like or taking stuff from the house.

The suitcase is already full just with the bedding, and I realize that I forgot a mattress pad. It won't fit in, but hopefully Dad will get over himself and can go out and get this and maybe a couple of other just basic things. He is so fucking military that now that he's got his plan, which doesn't take at all into account anything emotion or feeling, just tries to get the job done - which is getting her moved.

I'm in shock. I feel like I write that almost every day, but I can't believe that I'm rushing around here trying to find stuff for the room that she's going to live in. I'm worried about how she'll be when she walks in, and I feel like I'm the only one. I tried to get my sister to help me, but I can't even get her to send me a picture of her kids for me to blow up and make something nice for my mom's walls.

Anyway, my idea is to blow up two pics - one of my dog at the beach and the other of my neice and nephew. I'll get them framed really nicely and even if she can't recognize who is in the pictures, they'll look nice on her wall. And maybe sometimes she will remember and smile.