When Dad moved in this September, I knew there would be adjustments. I just didn't realize how many of them would involve changing the house itself.

Before he arrived, we converted the downstairs shower into something safer and more accessible. More recently, we finished another project under the deck outside his living space, adding a drainage system and outdoor shades so he can sit outside without being exposed to as much rain and wind.

Then there were the stairs. I mentioned them in my last update about living with Dad. His space is downstairs, but the main living area of our house is upstairs. He can access his space from outside without using the stairs, but that wasn't stopping him from trying to climb them when he wanted to come upstairs. Every time he did, I worried.

Dad values his independence, and I understand why. I don't want to take that away from him. But there is a difference between supporting someone's independence and pretending something is safe when it isn't. That's where Operation Restore Hope entered the picture.

Finding Help Outside the Usual System

Operation Restore Hope is a local nonprofit that helps veterans and their families throughout Central Pennsylvania. I first connected with its president and founder, John Johnson, while trying to figure out whether there might be assistance available for some of the accessibility work we were doing for Dad. What started as one conversation turned into several over the next few weeks.

John understood immediately why this mattered. He is a veteran himself, and one of the reasons he started Operation Restore Hope was because veterans can sometimes wait far too long for help through larger systems. When someone needs a ramp, a safer bathroom or another accessibility modification now, waiting months or potentially longer doesn't solve the immediate problem.

We talked about the shower, the stairs, and what might actually make the biggest difference for Dad. Eventually, John told me Operation Restore Hope could contribute $2,000. That alone was incredibly generous, but one part of our conversation stayed with me even more.

When it came time to figure out the logistics, I asked what documentation he needed from me. By that point, we had been talking for weeks. His response was essentially that he trusted me. A grassroots organization with limited resources was willing to help my dad because its purpose is exactly that simple: help veterans when help is needed.

Figuring Out the Stairlift

Of course, deciding that Dad needed a stairlift and figuring out how to actually get one were two different things. There were contractor conversations, measurements, and a lot of research into what kind of lift would safely accommodate Dad.

Eventually, I contacted Next Day Access South Central PA. Shawn, the owner, came to the house, measured the staircase, walked us through the different options, and helped us select a larger model that seemed best suited to Dad.  Operation Restore Hope's $2,000 contribution covered roughly half, and Dad and I split the remaining cost. Within days, the stairlift was installed.

The lift itself worked exactly as intended. Dad could ride up and down the stairs without a problem. But once he actually started using it, we discovered that getting in and out at the top was much harder than any of us expected.

The space is tight. His knees were brushing the molding, and one of his feet kept catching underneath the top step as he tried to rotate the chair. My husband tried it too and immediately understood why Dad was struggling. That was frustrating because one of my biggest concerns from the beginning had been Dad's size, and we had deliberately chosen the larger chair for that reason.

I talked to Shawn, and to his credit, he came back to the house with both installers. They spent about 15 minutes first watching Dad use the lift and talking through what was actually happening. Then they came up with an adjustment: move the entire lift slightly higher, but not so much that it interfered with the door at the top of the stairs.

That was not a quick tweak. They had to take apart and reinstall part of the lift, and the three of them worked on it together for more than an hour. Then Dad tried it again. This time, he could get both feet on the floor as he rotated the seat, which made getting in and out substantially more comfortable. It was one of those moments that reminded me why seeing something work on paper is not the same as watching the person who actually has to live with it.

Next Day Access South Central PA team members Tyler, Noah, and Shawn standing beside their service van after adjusting a stairlift installation

Making the House Work for Dad

The stairlift is only the latest example of something I'm learning since Dad moved in. There was a point when I thought preparing for him meant getting his living space ready. We did that. Then he arrived, and we started discovering what "ready" actually means. The shower, the outdoor area, and the stairs all needed to work for him. Some things we anticipated, and others became obvious only after he was here. I don't think that means we planned poorly. There are some things you simply cannot understand until a person begins living his life in the space you've created.

I've also learned that helping Dad maintain his independence sometimes means adding support rather than removing it. A stairlift doesn't make him less independent. If anything, it gives him another way to move around his own home without asking someone to help him or taking a risk because he wants to do it himself.

I'm grateful to Operation Restore Hope, and not only because their contribution made a significant difference in what Dad and I had to pay. I'm equally grateful that an organization like this exists in our community, run by people who understand that sometimes veterans and their families don't need another complicated process. They need someone willing to listen, understand what the immediate problem is, and help where they can. I'm also grateful that Next Day Access came back when the first setup wasn't quite right and worked through the problem with Dad instead of simply telling us that was the way it had to be.

Our house will probably continue producing projects, and at this point I've accepted that. But each one gets us a little closer to making this not simply the place where Dad moved, but a home that actually works for the way he lives.