moving

Moving to a new location is somewhat hellatious on a good day.

I remember when we “moved” to Texas. We had a small car and a small trailer and we took what we thought we could not live without and headed out, almost like Abraham: “not knowing where we were going.”

We knew on the map where we were going, but had no idea what the place actually looked like, what the people were like or how we could live on a graduate student stipend.

Now we face another move, only this time the move is seriously opposed by one of us. That makes the whole thing a bit trickier. If you have to do something this upsetting, I guess it is good to have an AD patient to move, maybe.

We will not sell our house in Idaho. Now is not the time to sell a super “regular” place and ours is not quite super and not remotely “regular.”

But there is something so awful about this damned disease. There is so little certainty to so much of it. True, she cannot remember as she did and true she cannot function on the level she did even 6 months ago, but there are moments when I think (or wish to think) that all is well.

That is the job of family, at least our family, to say, clear and forcefully: “Dad, all is not well.” “Start the process.”

The process is complex, at least.

Maybe it will even out at some point, but for now the complexities are banging in my head. The reasons are logical and they are imperative, but they are being drowned by complexities, mostly in my own mind.