One hot Saturday afternoon in a late October, Dad wanted to go to Bunnings to buy a protea. He loved those plants, and I wanted to do everything I could to give him some joy in his last few weeks on earth. So, it was up to me to take him because Mum had an appointment.
This was no easy straight forward task. For one thing, I didn’t have a drivers’ license anymore. The Transport Commission had snatched it from me a couple of months earlier due to my vision loss. But I still had my car. No one was taking that from me- not just yet anyway.
So what the heck?
I bundled my three little kiddos, aged seven, six and four at the time, into the car and managed to get Dad in as well. It wasn’t easy, as Dad could no longer walk unaided. Finally, everyone was belted in and we set off with an unlicensed driver at the helm.
Arriving at Bunnings
It was 38°C, and the kids were whiney because they wanted to be at home playing in the plastic wading pool. When we got to Bunnings, I faced the dilemma of who to get out first: Dad or the kids. I chose the kids because Dad wouldn’t have been able to stand there without me supporting him. This particular Saturday at Bunnings must’ve been the busiest place in Hobart. Cars and people were dashing here and there trying to get carparks and free sausages. The three little ones stood precariously next to the car, waiting for me to get Dad organised.
Finally, we started making our way over to the entrance of the store. As usual, Bunnings Saturday sausage sizzle was in full swing.
The kids immediately started a chorus of, ‘Can we have a sausage, please? Pleeease?’
They weren’t happy with the answer, but somehow, we managed to keep going.
Dad was small enough to fit in a trolley
We headed down to the garden nursery, which was of course, at the far end of the store. I wasn’t sure if Dad was going to make it. He was almost small enough to fit in a trolley by this stage, as he was only a skeleton of his former self. I considered bundling him into one, but immediately thought better of that and instead continued forwards and onwards. As we looked at the proteas, the kids had wandered off. I had no idea where they were but I couldn’t leave Dad at the protea stand. I had no other option than to shout out like a fishwife.
‘Adam, Hannah, Sarah …’
And just like the five little ducks, they all came back.
Checking out and heading home
Eventually, I made it to the checkout with all three kids, Dad, and a protea. Then it was the same drama in reverse: getting Dad into the car, then the kids, and driving off.
On the way back, Dad suggested getting the kids an icy pole. Not the best idea under the circumstances, but what could I do? I just wanted to get home to avoid any random license checks. Saturday afternoons were often the time when the police were out pulling unsuspecting people over for license checks.
Despite the chaos, Dad seemed happy, and that made it all worthwhile.
Footnote:
I hadn’t been able to bring myself to sell my car even though I no longer had a driver’s license. But Dad wasn’t going to be around for much longer and Mum had stopped driving, so I kept the car specifically for occasions like this. Although, I was ‘being illegal’, I wanted to make Dad’s transition a little easier for him and Mum. Neither of them knew that I had my license taken away. But after Dad passed, I took the kids for a short (safe) joy ride before selling the car.
My previous post discusses my father’s illness if anyone is interested.
Featured image of some beautiful proteas thanks to Unsplash.
