I still don't have too much to say about it.

Jeff lives at Sunrise now. It is an assisted living site, and his specific “neighborhood” there is the Reminiscence wing, first floor, Cypress Creek entrance. It’s hard for me to know what to say about this, which is why I haven’t said much as this process got underway and moved to completion.

There is a hole here in the house where his presence is meant to be. Sometimes someone walks in a way that sounds like Jeff walking downstairs. Yesterday, the timbre of a voice gave me a similar sensation.

I’ve been going by twice a day. This is easy. Sunrise is a two minute drive from my house, and--with my credit card bonus points (which I’ve been essentially unaware of for a decade plus)--I’ve ordered a bike, so I can go the eco way.

Before he moved, I played multiple roles in the confabulated parallel universe Jeff slips in and out of. Sometimes I’m my mother, Gale. Sometimes I’m Julianne Crough, his tomboyish childhood nemesis. Sometimes I’m Dr. Miller. Sometimes his sister Helen. Now, maybe there are enough other people around that I am not required to embody so many players, because so far when I drop in I’m always Emily.

Jeff assumes he’s still at home. The rocking chairs in the fenced yard are our front porch. His room is his room, nevermind that there is now a bedbound Mr. Schaller around the corner at the window end of the room.

Jeff doesn’t spend much time in his room anyway. There are many alcoves to wander in and out of, many windows to look through, and many places to stop and take a seat. I am told he was a willing participant in “RU-Fit with Sheila,” the bringer of group exercise. Three days in, I am willing to say (with cautious optimism) that Jeff is as content at Sunrise as he was at home. Maybe more. It is possible that the planned activities, and greater availability of people to interact with, use up energy that might otherwise be spent fretting about law school or other perceived goals.

He crashed in a big way in 2012, cognitively speaking. I have all sorts of thoughts and second thoughts about the “rightness” of putting substantial family funds into his care. This is one of the two things I just can’t really think about too much. The other thing is what will I begin to fill my life with? I don’t know. Yes, I’ve had plenty of fun with existential angst in my life, but now I will just have to be a zen master. Best option.