Dad told me a story this week that is one of those really lovely ones.  I’m writing a thank you letter as a result, as it’s one of those times that reminds you of the loveliness that is out there.  This is the letter that I am writing:

Dear Royal Mail,

I’m writing this to say thank you very much to the post people  from your delivery office who have reminded me just how lovely people can be.

Here’s a bit of background:

My Mum has advanced Alzheimer’s and vascular dementia.  My Dad has Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (COPD).  Essentially Mum’s mind and Dad’s lungs don’t work.  It’s a tricky combination which ultimately means that they rarely leave the house together.

Over a year ago, I wrote out  a card for Mum to have by the phone at home so that should anything happen to Dad she had instructions on calling 999 and the basic information to get an ambulance there.  On the back of the card are mine and my sisters numbers in the hope that the paramedics would call us.  All it actually achieved was highlighting that Mum couldn’t read anymore and no longer understood how to use the phone.  But I’ve left it there incase maybe it’s useful to someone in the future.

What I didn’t know is that on the occasional trips Dad manages out, he carries the card incase something happens so that he can be easily identified and we can be contacted (he wont hear of wearing an alarm around his neck).

Dad made one of his trips  last week – maybe the fourth this year – which included posting a birthday card.  He got out the car next to the letterbox, posted it, got back in the car and realised that he no longer had his card with him.  He’d popped that into the box too. His other stop that day was the bank in town, where he managed to leave his reading glasses on the ATM, so I suspect the excitement of the outing might have got a bit too much!

Anyway, it was only an index card with the hand written details on them, but the very next day it was posted, along with his other mail, through his letter box.  That means that the post person who emptied that mail box, presumably a sorter of mail and Mum and Dad’s postman all cared enough to get it back to the right place.

And I can’t tell you how much that has made me (and Dad) smile.

If there is a way for you to identify who these people are, please could you thank them very much?  It might seem like a small thing, but to us it really wasn’t.

Warm wishes,

Pog.

And in other Tuesday news, after washing and dressing (we’ve moved on from ‘how many pairs of pants should one person wear at a time?’, and moved onto ‘should socks go under or in top of slippers?’ and ‘how many socks should each foot have?’), we went to see Mums sister and then for coffee and toasted sandwich as a bit of a lunch treat on the way back.  By the time I left Mum couldn’t remember what she’d had for lunch, who we’d visited or what my name was. But that’s thats the way of this thing; it is what it is. 🙂