Dementia was listed as his only medical condition, and having finally got through to his son, we discovered that it was still fairly mild. His short term memory was affected intermittently, but he would normally function day-to-day quite happily and capably on his own. He had a cleaner come in once a week who would also take him shopping since he'd had to give up driving. Otherwise, he did everything on his own.
Nocturnal travels, however, were a new, potentially hazardous occurrence, and left us all with a problem.
I was loathed to take Leon to hospital, but had no other way to guarantee his safety. There was no-one we could ask to come and stay the night, just to make sure he stayed home. Leon was reluctant, and his son even more so, but both saw the logic to the argument that we couldn't just leave him alone. Hopefully the hospital would be able to care for him until his son arrived from the other side of the world.
"We've been thinking about a residential home for Dad." He tells me that they'd had honest discussions, and that the plans were in the pipelines. Now they'd have to be brought forwards. "I can be there in thirty-six hours."
As we all stroll out to the ambulance, my mind takes its own little walk and wanders back again to Sydney's Kingsford-Smith, my last sight of it, and its runway that ends in the beautiful blue sea.