Little things mean a lot

Today was a "day off," meaning no appointments for Dad, so we pretty much hung out at home, visited Mom, got a visit from a work friend of Dad, and watched the debacle that was the Jazz's final game of the season.

When Dad was getting ready for bed he said he was tired and I teased him by wondering why when he hadn't "done anything." And then I laughed because I had to enumerate for him all the wonderful "little things" he did today that really add up. As I told him, the more you do, the more your body becomes used to doing them and the easier (hopefully!) they become.

A partial list of Dad's accomplishments today:

• He stood at the sink to brush his teeth twice today.
• He was able to put on his own underwear and pull up his pants.
• He turned on and off lights and opened doors ahead of himself multiple times.
• At lunch he ate his soup entirely by himself. Soup. And he used a regular spoon (not the one with the giant handle)!
• When we went to visit Mom, he insisted on bringing in his walker so he could walk into the room and give her a hug and kiss (difficult to impossible when they're both in wheelchairs), which he did multiple times during our visit (he kept sitting down, then asking for his walker to hug her again :) ... yes, it was so precious I cried like a baby).

I have to admit, yesterday was pretty much a downer day. From the minute Dad woke up it seemed he was sad about everything that's wrong with him, and by late afternoon when we found out we wouldn't be able to see Mom he was pretty low. It's hard seeing him like that. I'm never sure if I should wallow with him or try and cheer him up. But we remember the ebb and flow of things, that though the good times don't last, neither do the bad times. And we wait for quietly happy days like today.