While my sister and I were preparing my parent's house for sale, there were a few last minute items to take care of. My sister and I had been alternating, working on the house and it's contents for a few weeks. Many stories and lots of hard work. My cousin painted the kitchen and dining room. Did I tell you that? Amazing. My best friends helped me haul two tonnes of garbage away. Cousins pitched in from far away. So many stories of selflessness and support. Anyway.
With less than a week left to transfer the property, I discovered that the ensuite bathroom off my parent's bedroom hadn't been touched. We'd all missed it in our cleaning and tidying. Truth be told, my Dad had been living in the room for years; my Mum had been banished to the spare room where she could sleep without interruption.
The ensuite was disgusting. I spent an hour scraping my father's caked shit off the outside of the bowl .. at some point he'd flushed it, overflowed the toilet, and just walked away.
Some things they don't cover in the bereavement sessions at your local church.
Dad died. He left Mum behind, malnourished, dehydrated, unable to walk or look after herself,
and he thought he'd been taking care of her. This is the story of how I, along with my sister and wife,
tried to deal with what he left behind.
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