I thought M and I had gone through all his pants and weeded out the ones that were too small months ago, but evidently not. When I got home from work last night, he told me that he wanted to show me something, and he had five pairs of jeans laying out on his bed. When I asked if they were too small or too big for him, he said they were both.
Both too big and too small?
My first inclination was to take his word for it and put the jeans in our “donate” box, but I decided to have a mini fashion show and have him try them on. He wasn’t thrilled, but he took off his belt and the jeans he was currently wearing and tried on the first pair. He was right – they were too small – but he wanted to add his belt around his waist as part of trying them on. I told him he didn’t need to put the belt on, since the pants were obviously too small, but he kept picking the belt up.
And I would say to put the belt down.
And he would pick the belt up.
And I would say to put the belt down.
Yes, the belt was the obsession of the day. And I know you’re asking yourself, “what difference does it make? If he wants to put the belt on, why not let him?”
It had been a long day. I was tired. I was hungry. And we had at least five pairs of jeans to try on (we ended up with him trying on ALL his pants – about 12 pairs of jeans and khakis.) I simply didn’t have the time, or the patience (let’s be honest) to wait for him to put his belt on for every pair of pants. Especially the ones that were too small.
Turns out there were at least five pairs in his collection that didn’t fit (NOT the ones on the bed, it turns out. All but one of those actually fit him) so we cleaned out his shelves and now he’s good to go.
I also made another decision for M yesterday that I’ve thought about several times since I did it. I can always change it, but I’m pretty sure I’ve done the right thing.
A few months ago, I saw online that a neighbor he knew when he was growing up had passed away. It’s probably been 30 years or so since he has seen or talked to this neighbor, but I know he has fond memories of growing up next door. I told him that I had heard his neighbor had died and M completely came apart. He broke down and said that he had been intending to go see this person (he hadn’t) and couldn’t stop talking and worrying about it. I knew right then I had made a HUGE mistake in telling him.
Yesterday, I received a call from M’s brother, letting me know that one of their uncles had passed away. This is someone M has been close to over the years, but since his diagnosis, he hasn’t been in contact with nor has he asked about him. M’s brother hadn’t told the uncle about M’s condition either, because it would have been so upsetting to the uncle and he was 90. So, I made the decision NOT to tell M about his uncle. There’s no need to upset him or make him feel regretful about anything. He deserves a happy, peaceful life.
But then really, don’t we all?