After family dinner, Andrea, my sister in law loads a double paper plate with turkey and all the fixings and wraps it in a sturdy Ziploc bag. She hands it to me with both hands. “Tell your father we miss him and we wish him well,” she says. Then, Katie and Max and I duck out early and get on the parkway, headed toward Dad.
At the nursing home, the halls are quiet and we realize quickly that we’re arriving too late. Everyone else had a visit from family in the morning. But we are new to this and don’t know how it works.
As we round the corner, looking for Dad, I make a mental note: Next year, Dad first. Then, there is Dad reading in the alcove outside his room, his wheelchair pulled up to the little round table by the windows.
“Grandpa!” Katie calls. And Dad turns toward us. “Oh,” he says, eyes bright. “You came.”
And though he’s already eaten, we pull up three chairs and he has a second Thanksgiving dinner with us.
This is a scene from The End of Men, a book about my Dad and me.
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