Page 22 of A Forever Home at Honey Bee Croft

‘Because it’s your birthday and birthday boys deserve nice gifts.’ Because you’re my dad. Because I love you. Because you’re ninety today.

My spoken answer seemed to satisfy him as he smiled and thanked me, cuddling the bear closer to his heart.

‘Would you mind if I took a photo of you with Poppy?’ I asked.

Marnie appeared next to me as I took several photos. ‘Stanley, why don’t I take a photo of you with Poppy the bearandPoppy the person? Wouldn’t that be good?’

Dad was happy to oblige and I crouched down beside him, smiling at the camera. It was so tricky to find reasons to take photos of Dad, never mind ones with the two of us, so I hoped it turned out well.

The last thing I wanted before I left was a hug and Marnie secured that for me too.

‘What do you say to a thank you hug to Poppy for her lovely gift, Stanley?’

Stanley smiled and put his arms out. I knew I had to be brief, but I wanted to hold him tight and never let go. I wanted to tell him that I was his daughter and that the bear was made from his wife’s throw. I wanted so badly for him to remember, but he was never going to. Dad was lost somewhere in time, his childhood mind trapped in an old man’s body and one day, not far from now, he’d forget other things like how to swallow. It was all too cruel.

‘How did you find today?’ Marnie asked as we sat down in The Farrier’s Arms with drinks a little later.

‘Difficult. Every time I see him, there’s so much circling round my head and I stupidly keep getting my hopes up that he’ll recognise me.’ I found myself welling up once again. ‘I know it’ll never happen now, but I suppose there’s part of me still hoping for a miracle.’

‘You’re not alone there. It’s such a tough thing to experience.’

We both took a sip on our drinks.

‘You wanted to talk to me about something?’ I prompted.

‘Yes, but before I do, I don’t think I ever told you what led me to do this job. My granddad died when I was eight and my grandma was so lost and lonely without him that she moved in with us. I was taking my GCSEs when she started showing signs of dementia. She had Alzheimer’s like your dad and it was a rapid decline. By the time I finished college, she had no idea who any of us were and she wasn’t safe on her own.’

‘Sounds familiar,’ I said.

‘It broke our hearts admitting her into a home, but we thought it was the best place for her. She wasn’t there long and, after she passed away, stories of neglect emerged. The things that went on…’ She drew in a sharp breath, shaking her head, and I could imagine how painful it must be for her revisiting something so shocking.

‘At that point, I vowed that I’d make a career out of supporting dementia patients and ensuring no vulnerable people ever went through what my grandma must have gone through.’

‘I’m really sorry about your grandma. I find it so hard to believe that people can go into a caring profession and not care.’ A shudder ran through me at the thought of Dad being mistreated.

‘Same here but, sadly, it happens. Not at The Larks; every single member of staff cares deeply about all the residents and their families.’

‘It shows.’

‘Thank you. You’re probably wondering why I’m telling you this. Having worked in dementia care for over thirty years and having lost a grandparent to Alzheimer’s, I’ve got a wealth of knowledge about dementia not just from the perspective of the patients, but from the perspective of the families. I’ve seen everything from an angry child or partner practically slinging the patient in through the front door and never returningthrough to those who’d spend all day and night with their loved one if they could.’

She paused and gave me a gentle smile, as though acknowledging that I was one of the latter.

‘We’re all different and there’s no right or wrong way to deal with the myriad of emotions that come with a dementia diagnosis or when a loved one moves into late-stage dementia. Feelings of grief and loss can kick in at any stage, they can come in waves, and different emotions will be stronger at different times. Do you mind me asking how you’re feeling at the moment?’

The wordsI’m finewere on the tip of my tongue, but why lie to Marnie? She’d see right through it and I doubted she’d have asked the question if she didn’t already know the answer.

My shoulders sagged. ‘Honestly? I’m exhausted. I feel like I’m spinning plates and I don’t have the energy to keep them all going and, pretty soon, they’re going to fall off and smash.’

‘And what happens to the plate spinner when that happens?’ she asked gently.

‘Broken too.’

She lightly placed her hand on my forearm – a sign of understanding and comfort which brought tears to my eyes.

‘If you didn’t visit your dad every day, what could you do instead?’

I removed a tissue from my bag and dabbed at my tears. ‘I could slow down a bit. Relax. Go out.’ A few more answers popped into my head, but they felt too personal to share.Go on a date. Be a little less lonely.

---