Celebration

I hold back speed-wise as I navigate the busy streets of Ottawa. The thermometer is up there and drivers are impatient but with my trunk lid open, I’m careful. Somehow, this last-minute grocery run has to work, and the fact that dad’s wheelchair— the non-portable one that is now hanging out of the trunk of my car—has to be with us, is of consideration. Besides, it’s only a few blocks from his current home in the Veterans’ wing of the Perley and Rideau Health Centre to his long-time grocery store, all in the east end of town.

Like all things around here, we go with the flow. I was touring dad around the Perley site to check out various options—indoors and also out in the gardens—where we might hold his upcoming birthday festivities when the topic of food for guests came up. Shrimp is always high on the list; spinach dip with a certain cracker? What about cheeses? Sure, why not? Why not check out the grocery store right now instead of talking about it. We have a few days to plan. For dad, right now means exactly that. The words wait and delay are not part of his vocabulary.

The thought that his portable, car-trunksuited walker is way back there in his room doesn’t occur to me until I study the very unportable wheelchair we are using. By now, he’s safely buckled into the passenger seat and while he is still agile for his age, getting dad into the front seat of a car requires time and patience. And attention to detail: like not forgetting to put the brakes on the wheelchair as you’re gently navigating him into the seat, only to look over your shoulder to see that the chair has escaped and is on a free-run headed across the parking lot to the row of cars across the way.

The automatic doors slide open as we enter the air conditioned, newly renovated grocery store, where before us are what seem to be acres of food choices. Responding to his inquiry, Gina at the Deli section hands dad a menu of event foods and points out favourites like guacamole chicken wraps and Italian sausage bites. Dad briefly surveys the list and decides a run through the aisles is more hands-on and will prompt his recall of party favourites.

You see, there is seldom an event that passes on the calendar that dad wouldn’t be planning a get-together at his house. Complete with themed decorations from related seasons with sometimes a mix of some favourites. The Christmas tree placed in a certain corner had only one way that the lights could be placed, if you catch my drift. And when it comes to preparing a menu for events, his trained scientist mind weighs guest numbers, portions and food and beverage quantities to lab tolerances, allowing little slack for last minute: so far, his enthusiasm for get-togethers continues and so me playing the assistant for the planning of his birthday is all part of it.

We slowly roll by the cheese section when his feet hit the ground, bringing the wheelchair to a halt. He points out the brie and local cheddars to be listed. Over in the bakery department, we cruise the shelves in search of tiny croissants that are always a hit, he reminds me. Then we hit the cracker aisle and then a detour back to the seafood section to evaluate shrimp. Every time his feet hit the floor is like a metal detector on a beach signalling that we have discovered something of note. The list is described by brand name as most of all the brands have been tested for popularity. No substitutes here. Not one. Trust me.

Our reconnaissance mission now done, a list prepared for my return prior to the party and he has come away with some treats to hold him over until then. Treats like those marshmallow chocolate-covered cookies and some croissants.

So, despite family loss and saddened moments to navigate over the next days, we keep our eye on the celebration. Humour and the bonding of family and friends is a lesson I have learned from Paul, my dad. On Friday, August 5, with fresh flowers on the patio he has chosen and with a fiddler in our midst, we will celebrate of my father’s 102nd birthday!