I'm going to be out of a job soon.

The little gentleman I look after has decided that it's in his best interests to move into an assisted living facility.  The neurological disease he's had for many years is progressing rapidly (I personally believe that he's got the start of Alzheimers in addition to his other problems) and his savings are dwindling away.  He's going to sell the house that he built with his own hands and move into....well, into a place where there will be someone there 24 hours a day to provide him the care he needs and his family the peace of mind they're desperate for.

It's for the best.  He really can't manage by himself and, in all honesty, hasn't been managing for quite some time.  It's to the point that the other girl that looks after him and I have to call him three or four times a day to remind him to take his pills - and even then he still forgets.  He'll pour a glass of water to wash his meds down with and then will get distracted and forget that he's supposed to take them. *sigh*  When the topic of assisted living came up the week before last, he said that he was reluctant to tell me because I'd be out of a job when he sold the house.  Bless his little heart!  I said that I wasn't worried about it; that with a little luck I'd be in college full-time and that I was worried about telling HIM that I wasn't going to be able to care for him anymore!

Things happen for a reason.  I came to care for them for a reason; I helped the Mrs die with dignity and peace.  I made a difference in their lives.  I believe that I did what I was sent there to do.  It's time to move on; to begin the next chapter of my life.  That doesn't mean that I'll be blanking out the Mr totally, I have a lot of respect and time for him and will be visiting and calling regularly - but it's time for both of us to go on to new pastures.

I haven't ever told him this and I probably never will, but I love that little guy.  I said that his wife was the only reason I agreed to work for them because he was cantankerous and cranky and that when she passed away I was going to tell him he needed to find another caregiver, but that didn't happen.  When she passed, he changed.  It was like this huge weight was lifted from him and he was able to be 'Mr'.  just Mr.  Not Mr with the dying wife or Mr with who didn't feel well enough to cook but who had to keep going because his wife was dying and he wanted to love her as hard as he could (no innuendo, please) right up to the very end. He was just 'Mr' - the funny, semtimental, intelligent, caring man who was trying to find a way to let go of the person he loved above all others without scaring her.  She didn't want to leave him, see.  She loved him.  I love him too.

I love him, and I have an enourmous amount of respect for him.  He's been like my substitute grandfather - my last surviving grandparent passed away 13 years ago and I don't get to see Dave's grandparents every day, so the Mr filled a gap that I didn't realize I had until I had I started caring for them.

I love him, and I will be there for him. 

As long as he needs me, I'll be here.