Recovering the Ground

I am able to leave my class an hour early so around three, I get in my car. I call my dad's cell and find him with my mom at rehab. I tell him I'll come and get him to go to the bank. I hear him sigh, and then tell me we need to talk some more about this. 

I shoot a text to my brother telling him dad's digging his heels in about the bank, I'm on my way to him, can Wes join us in another conference call? Thankfully he says yes. 

At rehab, I decide that hashing this out again in my mom's room is not a wise course of action. She's been fairly cooperative and getting her unhappy too is a mistake. I take Dad out to the home's outside courtyard. It's in the middle of four halls of rooms. Thankfully shaded and with seats. I sit at a picnic table with my Dad and call my brother. 

We cover the same topics and some unexplained reason why I should not be added to the accounts. He tells us both that he doesn't think I want to take their money that he trusts me, but he just doesn't want to do this. No real reasons why are given.  

I am feeling pretty pushed to the wall. I can't continue to come and have this scene over and over again each month as we pay bills, the Garden, their own house and utilities. I tell both my brother and my dad I can't do this. Either I get added onto the accounts or we are at a dead end. 

I am sure that my brother thought I had absolutely lost it. (Although, bless him, he's never said that.)

My brother persisted through the objections and my dad finally caves in and agrees. At just about this moment a staff person comes in and gives Dad and I a good look. I figure we might be on the edge of being thrown out. We never yelled but we certainly had some raised voices, partly due to the cell phone on speaker partly in the heat of the moment. 

Thankfully we are past that. I take Dad to say good-bye to Mom and we tear off in my car. By now it is 4:20. I check and find the bank doesn't close until 5:30. Off we go.