Today we learned that one of our former members, I’ll refer to him as Mr. Tiger Cap, passed away just recently. He wasn’t part of our program for very long (no more than a year) but I still have very fond memories of him.
Every day he came to our adult day care, Mr. Tiger Cap asked for a cup of coffee, and no matter how it tasted he seemed so genuine when he said, “That’s good! That’s good!” He had a bit of a limp on the one side and used an old wooden cane. He dressed in old flannel shirts and would always smile at you and let you know that his wife was coming for him that day. I imagine he was very proud of his wife.
Much of his past is left to my imagination; by the time we met he had a lisp that groveled and didn’t hold up much in a conversation. Maybe he had that lisp his whole life. I imagine him as a country boy who grew up working hard, I do know he moved to the city and worked at an automobile plant until he retired, putting 30-40 years into the company. I wonder what that must have been like, to be able to count on a pension if you worked at one place your whole career.
Although he was right handed, he always threw the ball better with his left at our programs. He wasn’t very vocal, but loved being active. He’d use his cane to make sure the balloon wouldn’t hit the floor during our volleyball games.
Late in the afternoon, after our snack, he would grab his coat and Detroit Tiger’s cap, put them on, and wait in the hallway for his wife. He knew she was due sometime soon, and I’m not sure if he was afraid he’d miss his ride home or if he wanted to show his wife that he was ready and knew she was coming. I’d bet that this was a small way of showing her he wasn’t all that gone mentally.
We’d let him sit in the hall on the bench, until once or twice he actually tried walking outside. So, I began to sit with him for the 10-15 minutes just to keep his company and be there in case he went wandering. Since he didn’t talk much, other than saying his wife was ‘gonna be there soon,’ I’d ask him what he was going to do that night. He’d tell me that he’d play cards with his wife and eat a sandwich. I asked if he was going to watch the Pistons or Tigers play and his eyes would light up with enthusiasm. When his wife’s car pulled up, he’d see it and say, “There she is, there she is,” and start walking to the door. She would be a little frazzled that he wasn’t with the group, but didn’t seem to mind too much.
One time, his wife needed to go on a trip, I think for only about a week, so she put him in an assisted living for respite. He was only gone for a week, but when he came back, Mr. Tiger Cap was different. His capacities had waned, his strength erroded, his speech more lame. His family said they went to visit him and he was outside in 90 degree weather with three sweaters on, probably dehydrated, but the staff there didn’t catch it. They said another time they went to visit him he was depressed and didn’t want to get around. After he came back from this respite stay, he didn’t last long at home, and his wife couldn’t keep up with all the new symptoms he presented. So, Mr. Tiger Cap moved into a nursing home, and left me and our program with the memories of a simple man proud of his auto work, his baseball team, and most of all his wife.
