The significance of four shirts

“See if you can get Dad to buy some new shirts,” hinted my youngest brother one day on the phone.

It seems Dad was down to just a couple of shirts, and while I (with my typical “‘clothing blindness“) didn’t notice, my brother had. He even went so far as to note Dad’s shirt size with an eye toward picking up a few garments on his behalf.

Fortunately it didn’t get that far. Dad had a doctor’s appointment in a nearby town on Thursday, so on Wednesday I told him, “Tomorrow after your doctor’s appointment, let’s go buy you some shirts.”

Dad was surprisingly agreeable about it. So after his doctor’s appointment, we went to a nearby department store, and he selected four shirts. “In lighter colors,” he said. “Most of my current shirts are darker.”

Armed with four new shirts, we drove home, at which point I confessed that Younger Brother had put me up to the task. Dad laughed heartily over that. My younger brother is, thank God, like a mother hen to our parents.

But the significance of those four new shirts – and possibly why he didn’t kick up a fuss over buying them – came clear that evening on the way home from feeding my mother dinner in the nursing home. My own imminent departure was looming, and I’m certain Dad was thinking about living in the house alone without Mom (and without me there as a stopgap).

We were discussing the social aspects Mom might experience in the nursing home. While her ability to communicate is limited, she’s surrounded by a very nice (if sometimes odd) collection of patients and a lovely staff. She will have plenty of opportunities for socializing with these people

Out of the blue, Dad started talking about his own social life. For the last few years, being unable to leave my mother’s side except for a few dashed and gaspingly fast errands or appointments (after giving Mom strict instructions to stay in bed while he was gone, lest she fall in his absence), his social life has been nonexistent. Now, without Mom in the house, he has the freedom to resume his social connections. And – logical engineer that he is – he recognizes the importance of doing so.

“That’s why I bought those shirts,” he concluded.

Aha. And here I thought his decision was solely based on my feminine wiles.

But it was a pivotal moment in some ways. Dad will have to adjust to living on his own now. While he’s somewhat of an introvert like most of our family, that much solitude is not healthy for a nearly 90-year-old man. That’s why I was thrilled when, about a week ago, Dad was able to attend the monthly meeting of a men’s group from his church, for example. He fully intends to reconnect with this group and its activities, as well as to explore other activities he’s been unable to do during my mother’s illness.

So yeah, those four shirts are very, very important.