Is Father Lonely?

Compounding the death of my uncle, I was told by Mother on Sunday, when Father was desperately coming home to see his younger brother before he passed, that Father fell in the middle of one night and got a gash on his head so bad that blood was gushing.  He had to go to the emergency room to stop the bleeding.  So she told me to watch him, just in case.

I am frickin' working like a dog, at my normal job the past workweek and then at Target Center for the basketball tournament this weekend, so me watching him consists of genuinely asking if he's OK and texting him in the middle of the day.  He seems fine.  I actually am more worried about his mind than his body, but both appear to be OK ... although he left the kitchen light on a couple hours ago.  I hope to Buddha he didn't slip and fall somewhere and I didn't hear it.  I'll go downstairs to make sure he's just in bed.

Mother is still in Las Vegas, so unless he has a more active lifestyle than I remember him having, Father is stuck in the house all day alone.  Realizing this, I have been thinking about him -- not just whether he's safe alone at home, but whether he's, you know, alone.  I am now wishing Mother was here with him.  I still remember them fighting like cats and dogs because they've been tied to the hip for nearly all their lives.  But right now, that feels like a better alternative than what Father probably is doing right now, which is being bored to death.  Hey, when you're married to each other for so long, each other's all you've got.

Thankfully (I think), Mother's coming home soon.  They can be with each other, keeping each other company, annoying the hell out of each other.  That will lessen my anxiety, for sure, and hopefully they will be safer once they'll be stuck at home together.