Our friend was in line when my Dad died to court my mother. She picked him because he had five hundred dollars in his pocket that first date. They had a wonderful year where they went out to lunch everyday. Then one day he had a stroke. She took him in to the hospital early enough to help him but he still lost his short term memory.
I helped her take care of him for the next couple years. His accountant paid my mom to look after him and she did with all her Navy Nurse intensity at 86 years old. He was a nasty old fellow and I didn't like him. He finally ended up in a nursing home after a fall at home.
He did not cooperate in the home. The physical therapist could not get him to walk again and he was confined to his bed. In fact he was restrained in his bed. He would bite, scratch and yell at the top of his lungs to anyone and everyone about anything. My mother was a faithful visitor altho she did not get along with the few relatives he had.
She would try to help feed him. That must be a very nurturing activity for some people and yet it was not necessary. He would spit and scratch and she would talk baby talk to him to try and calm him down. There were times when he was coherent and the home kept great care of him.
One of the nurses said to me once," We are just waiting for a superbug to come by and get him." That was it as there was nothing really wrong with him. They had cured him of pneumona twice. He was strong and healthy except for his mind. We waited a whole year and then finally one day he was just gone.
I went up to the nursing home to check on him and he was gone. The bed was being sterilized and the room looked so empty. I knew a superbug had got him and I was thankful for that.