Seriously have trouble finding any Christmas spirit this year. Last night we had to send my dear, sweet Uncle Ivan to a nursing home.
Last Tuesday, after he didn't show up at Mom's, for her to pay his bills, we found out that he also never made it to his doctor's appointment. Mom tried to go to his house and the storm door was locked from inside. She had the police come and break in. Oncle Ivan was unconscious in his chair, probably for at least 24 hours. He was taken to St. John's, but they couldn't regulate his blood pressure, so they life-flighted him to University Hospital, where they had him in Neuroscience ICU for several days. Now, he seems to have lost the last 50+ years and it's terribly heartbreaking to see him this way.
Two weeks ago he was driving around town, going on bus trips to Mountaineer and Windsor casinos, still going to Union meetings (40 years at Ford Motors), taking care of his lovely house and yard, going to church and flirting with every lady he saw.
Now he's back in Soviet Russia, fleeing, on foot across the Soviet Union and Europe, running for his life, hiding from the Russians and the Germans, with his brother Rischka.
It's so unfair, for him to have to live those horrible times again! Why couldn't he be at a place that he was so happy with his beautiful wife Helga and their son Peter in America? He told me those stories so many times and I always meant to record the stories, so the little ones would know these amazing things about their great uncle.
Oncle Ivan last Christmas -- you gotta love a man that wears a shirt and tie with a jogging suit...