Post Office Visit

Every day Daddy and I go to the Post Office together-except on Sundays. We pick up the mail for my family, the pharmacy and my sister. Today I got in line to mail a package. Dad walked on around to the post office boxes. When I came around the corner he had a pile of mail several several inches high stacked in the area where you can sort through your mail. I commented on the amount of mail and asked him if he had taken the mail from my sister's box, he replied "I haven't gotten the store's mail yet" and proceeded to open the post office box that he had emptied only minutes ago. THe post office box was empty. I reminded him that the pharmacy's mail was sitting on the counter.
When my husband and I moved back to my hometown to help my parents, one of the first people outside the family who discussed my dad's memory with me was one of the post office employees. She had worked there for years and had seen my dad come and go for years. She knew his name. She knew his business. She reported that Daddy often left something at the post office-the keys to the post office box or a piece of mail. Ginnie told me that she always paid attention to my Daddy's comings and goings. She would check behind him and if she found something that he left, she would put it away until she could call the pharmacy and report what he had left. I felt like crying that day when she told me about these difficulties and I told her that he would not be coming alone any longer. I thanked her for watching out for him. She has been one of his guardian angels this past year. Many Alzheimer's patients have human guardian angels and they don't even realize it. My dad has many of those. I am so thankful for their help.