I haven't been around much, my dad's congestive heart failure has gotten pretty bad. Monday the hospice doctor and social worker came so he can stay in his home. I've been busy with my mom trying to keep her from being completely exhausted, and of course we have all the workers to deal with.

I'm completely okay with all of it, perhaps the benefit of attachment disorder. I love my father but feel no sense of upcoming loss. Who knows, it may bother me later. I've spent the last couple of days trying to recall happy memories. When I was really little he used to sing to me and tell me stories. I think all the happy memories end when I was five. I still have no memories of ages 6-11. When I have memories beyond that it's thoughts that I will always be very unhappy and will never be cared about. Who knows how the mind works, it is what it is. 

No need for those words of comfort that are so hard to think up because you feel bad for the person. So far I don't feel sad or scared that I'm losing my dad. More than anything I keep thinking, now he can't be mean to me or belittle me anymore. If I feel bad about it later I'll write about it. Mostly I'm worried about my mom and me getting worn out, and the endless calls from people saying all "the right things" that neither of us wants to hear. I also feel very sad for my daughters because he was good to them so they'll miss him. It's a strange situation for my mom and I.

The good news is that when she called my girls they both wanted to see me. There's no place like mom. Things are back to where they were years ago. My girls are now helping like mad, thinking of others instead of themselves only. They've taken over the phones and are coming to the appointments. The memory part of my brain is still kaput and they've both stepped up. These are my beautiful girls and I have nothing but admiration and gratitude. 

Of course I got to see my granddaughter who is now running. When I saw her she offered me her favorite blanket. Then she brought stuffed animals and snack puffs to everyone. She's quite the generous little creature. She's warm, open and trusting, within a short time she came and raised her arms for me to lift her, even though she only met me once when she was 3 months old. She is so like her mother was when she was that age, secure and happy, a child that knows she is loved and safe. Her auntie was wonderful with her. I have nothing but admiration for them because my daughters are the women I wanted them to be.

My eldest said this is one of those blessings in disguise, my dad is 89 and him staying long enough for us to come together again is the best thing he could ever have done for me.

My granddaughter's is named after my beloved grandmother. Her name is Kamal, it means Perfection.

She has a face shaped like a perfect Georgia peach and she's even sweeter.

Comments on how blessed I am to have my wonderful daughters again and a sweet granddaughter are of course, quite welcome.