"I Miss Them"

 Just a short while ago, we were there with him, M., as usual, tending to his needs, as she perceived them:  hair trimming, Q-tip wielding, nail clipping, clean-up shaving, etc.  All the while she kept up a constant one-sided conversation, as was the custom then, as speech did not readily come to him.

      On this day in  late August, she was full of information about the two older boys, chattering on about who had just been transported to their colleges, and the youngest, about to enter high school She went on in detail, offering facts and anecdotes about their new adventures.  

    When she was finished talking, or paused for a time, he spoke a full sentence, rare for him. He said, "I miss them."  

   Since all three had visited, together and separately, quite regularly, it's not likely that he missed their physical presence. I'm sure in my mind that he was missing his life with them, having been their daily caretaker, on schooldays anyway, practically from birth right up to and including that fateful day of June 16, 2015. 

   He would leave home daily, first at 5:45 and then, after the move, at 5:30. He'd set the alarm, but usually woke up in time to turn the alarm off. I didn't hear the alarm, but still in bed, I  could hear him fixing his instant coffee and toast. When the kids were still at home, first three, then two, and finally one, he would eat his "real breakfast" at their house, with them.  He drove them in sequence, first to Nursery School  and then to elementary school. 

When the final kid was in school, he'd come back home to fix more coffee and toast, always this time  with the addition of eggs.  Or sometimes he would go to Stewart's and maybe join his brother or another buddy for breakfast there. If it was a nice day for golfing, he could go to the course early, always allowing time for him to return for his after school duties with whatever kids needed his care. 

  He always looked forward to his childcare "job." Not once did he ever wish he could have stayed in bed longer. Not once did he ever need a sick day or a substitute. Only once or twice, did I fill in and that was for a  scheduled out-of-town golf outing,  As a matter of  fact, when I needed knee surgery back in 2014, he said he didn't see how he could take care of me since he'd already promised to care for M's kids. As it turned out, I was fortunate enough not to need any care, so I didn't have to clobber him. 

  On that day in June, the last day of his childcare duties, he had seen them on the bus as usual, and then came home. He went first to the post office, and then to the supermarket, and I think Stewart's. Since he had plenty of time before he had to meet the youngest after school, and it was a nice day,  he decided to work on the pool, which he always opened for the kids. He needed more chlorine and went to Wiley's, where pool supplies were kept in the shed. As he picked up the bag and stepped backwards out the doorway, his foot caught on the raised edge and he fell,  backwards from the weight of the bag. 

   His job was over. He still saw the youngest, who  would  often get off the bus here, but his brothers, if home, were now old enough to supervise him. It was never the same though. He missed his life with them.  His life. Life.