Snowflakes For Father

Closing up my house up for the night, I noticed the snow under the lights outside, and I remembered the winter that I made paper snowflakes for my Father. I had found a program online that let me design snowflakes so I created some delicate blue snowflakes, printed them out on paper, and taped them to his door. He was delighted. That very night someone tore down the snowflakes, and left the shreds on the floor. I still had the computer files so I printed out the snowflakes again and taped them back up on Father's door, but someone tore them down again. Many of the residents had paper drawings and other personal items taped to their doors, why was my Father denied that small pleasure, and why so harshly?

This petty destruction in Father's own nursing home bedroom must have been very upsetting to him, but he would not, could not speak of it to me. He did not want to think about it, and he did not want to trouble me. Why did the nursing staff leave the torn snowflakes laying there on his bedroom floor? Were they under the authority of whoever tore them down, the nursing home director and son-in-law of the owner, David Meiselman?