It's moving day and no one is looking forward to this one.

It begins at a smart bungalow in the Meadowlands. The person who's moving is George Martin, 83, retired construction inspector with the province. He worked on the Skyway.

George doesn't want to go anywhere. He's said that many times.

He'll be leaving his wife, Norma, 81. As her family says, "She's been going through hell."

The house is full. Norma's daughters are here, Nancy and Laura Jean. So is Norma's grandson and his fiancee. There's good humour on the surface, anxiety an inch below.

In earlier lives, Norma and George both lost spouses. The two met, then married, six years ago.

They danced, golfed, played music, Norma on piano, George on drums.

A few years ago, George began to fail. His eyesight faded to shadows. Then he could scarcely walk. He just takes baby steps. Confusion began to set in.

The doctor didn't see it. "Well, there's something wrong," Norma told the GP, "with him or with me."

George, who now needs 20 pills a day and sometimes won't take them, was assessed. Indeed, he was a candidate for a nursing home.

It's time to make that journey. George is at the kitchen table. "I like this house," he says. "I like it the way it is."

"This is for everybody's safety," Laura Jean tells her stepfather.

"I've never heard of anybody doing this," George says. Nancy adjusts his cap and hands him his white cane.

The silver Highlander waits. Nancy seats George up front, Norma in the back. The rest ride in the car behind.

It's a 10-minute drive to Wentworth Lodge. Nancy's brought a Nat King Cole CD and plans to play it loud.

George is going to talk anyway. "I thought Wentworth Lodge was just down the street," he says.

"It's in Dundas," Nancy tells him. In fact, he's been there many times. He and Norma have often played for the Tuesday singalongs, and still will.

Nancy takes the scenic route, Old Dundas Road, the forsythia brilliant.

"Why isn't Norma going to be there too?" George asks.

"She can still drive and still look after herself," Nancy says. "But she just can't look after you, too. It's too hard.

"You're going to have lots of help and there will be other people there."

This conversation has taken place many times before, but Nancy patiently has it again. In the back seat, Norma stays quiet throughout the trip.

"So how long is this process?" George asks. How long will he be there?

Nancy isn't going to lie. "George, it'll be as long as it takes."

The little convoy reaches Wentworth Lodge. George is swept through the lobby and into the bright new wing, Trillium Court, Room 118.

He likes trains and the family has already hung four locomotive plates. There's a common bathroom that George shares with another man, Dave Patterson. He used to be an engineer with CP. It's looking good.

There's paperwork upstairs for Norma and Nancy. They're told, for instance, that every tenth death at a nursing home becomes a coroner's case. But mostly it's good news. A customized care plan will be put together for George. And he'll be able to have rum, his favourite, at Happy Hour. And there's a new men's club starting today.

Back downstairs, George has already been taken to the dining room for lunch. He's at Table 7 with the engineer and has just finished his soup. "Very good," he says, waiting on a tuna sandwich.

Norma and her girls say goodbye. They're exhausted.

They step out into the spring sunshine and breathe deep.

The eyes are damp, the job is done.

pwilson@thespec.com

905-526-3391