A brother was in the area in the midst of a state wide road trip and visited Mom. The three of us had lunch at the Home and adjourned to her room to prepare thank you notes for senders of the sympathy cards when Dad died.

There certainly was fun in the process. Initially T. delegated the return addressing and stamping to me. We looked fruitlessly through the unit for the sympathy cards from which to draw the names and all-important addresses of the recipients while Mom repeatedly accused the power of attorney brother, and/or his fearsome wife, of purloining said cards.

Between that pair and the staff there was much "walking" out of the room, as perceived by her.

At last here was a plastic bag filled with sympathy and birthday cards and it had been hanging on the chair in which T. had been sitting. Apparently it adapted to the general feng shui (editorial note: SNORT!) of the room for its survival.

After the thank you cards were under way I volunteered, as was appropriate, to all addressing and envelope loading for T. was performing the major task of writing the thank you note itself after looking over each card and envelope. Mom furnished her signature and some answers to questions of the name or names to go on the outgoing address when there was a slight protocol issue.

While I had stepped in, so did Mom. She's been preoccupied with a "companion" Dad had---yes, folks, back in the late 1940's---when they had separated a while shortly after the beginning of the marriage. Except somehow this woman had been hovering around all these years. Well, it had to be. Every unexplained name, receipt, memento---here she was! Or the calls were close.

The topper for me was an invite, with some hand written content, to some kind of celebration slash memorial for Leo Carrillo held beach side in 1976. The invite was from Antoinette Carrillo-Adelpe; I can't find out as of this writing if it was wife or daughter, and Mom really snagged into that one that here was the affair.

On the job and then in retirement I have played the mind wandering game of "If only I'd gotten some of the things---higher paying jobs, personal connections---Certain Past People had come by due to perceived and, face it, actual guile and cronyism." I know the feeling. But I am mobile and can get to things blocked by the brooding mind when I shunt aside laziness and, well, apprehension.

While the assisted living place chosen was close to as good as could be had vis a vis the monetary situation, I suppose when the mind is confronted with the increasing instability of what used to be an independent life and said mind is a major component of the break down then increasing suspicion and blame take the many roles in rationalizing why the former ideal is being held back as if by a conniving bully.

Or something. It's very unpleasant, like much in our sad third dimension.