My Dad.. my hero… the hardest battle he will ever fight….

August 25, 2010

My dad.. my wonderful, charismatic dad…. has  Alzheimer’s. He is 80 years  old, and his  health has been failing for  the past several years. He fought bravely through colon cancer, and a heart attack. Last November, he suffered a stroke after his pacemaker quit working.  Now, his mind is fading. My dad doesn’t   deserve this.

He has  been  my hero my entire life. He is  the  one  who got me through puberty, and all the  drama of teen life. He was a trucker/delivery person when I  was young &  I made practically every trip  he did, if   I  wasn’t  in school. He was the one  that  let me move back home  when I  left my ex husband. Dad  was the only father that  my son had ,when he was little.  Dad  was always  the go-to guy.. he could fix anything , mechanical or other wise. I remember  many times my uncle bringing his car to Dad  to fix, after work.  I also remember  my Dad  coming home after work , to receive a  phone call from his sister in Arkansas ( we  lived in Mississippi) , telling him she was running out of  food, and  had no money. She had a family  of 5.  So, Dad  gathered  what  groceries he could, and  made the  4 hour drive to Arkansas , to make sure they all  had food.  That was Dad.  He  always made sure his family had what they needed, whether  he did , or not.

Dad  wasn’t perfect ( none of are ),but, he was  the most  loving man I  have ever met. He  was  the  one all the  kids  went to  for stories. He  is the one who taught  me  that family means everything. He is also the  one who taught me to control that  wonderful family temper……

Dad  also  got me started  in genealogy, without really meaning to. He never knew  much of his family history.. so I  began the task of trying to  find his family tree.. and 20 odd years , and over 17,000 names, later…. I think  I  have completely  satiated  any hunger he may have had,  for  knowledge of his family  history.

All  these memories brings  me to  this day.  I  live 12 hours away  from him, and  I  cannot be there  when he needs me most. My heart  is breaking, and  I cry  until I have no more tears.. then cry  again. I realize the day is  coming when he may not recognize me  when I  do get  to go see him again. My mom  and my older sister are there, doing  what must be done.  I cannot  fathom  the next few months…. or  even weeks.  I  never know what the next phone call will be.

I know  Dad  would not  ever want to be in a world  in which he didn’t recognize  the family that  means  the world to him. I know  he  would never  want to  live in a place where  he couldn’t  comprehend his  grand-daughter  telling him who she is, when he is convinced that  she is  only his niece. When he  is convinced,at night, that  the babies ( all of  whom are adults now),  are hungry, and he has to find them food. He doesn’t understand that  there aren’t any babies  around, and even if    the great grand children were there…. they  definitely aren’t hungry at  3 or 4 a.m. 

The time if  approaching where  we  will  be required  to make a decision that  none of us want to face. We  have to pray desperately  that   God will allow  Dad  to pass with the dignity   that he deserves… or face the uncertain future  of  what we  refuse to fathom… finding long-term care for Dad. Mom can’t  do it alone much  longer… and   two  of their children  ( including me)  live too far away to be of  much help. None of  us want to  put Dad  ANYWHERE  but home….. so….. we are left with  painful decisions  and   heart-break.

We are among  so many other families  that Alzheimer’s  had cruelly torn apart.  Alzheimer’s  has to be the worst  illness ever.  Watching your loved one fade into  a world  that  you cannot  follow  them into.  Seeing  the body that  is  there, but,  knowing  that  the  person  has  crossed  the bridge into  a  place that you cannot go.  I  am  at that place… my  Dad  hasn’t completely  crossed  that bridge…. but,  he is  more than  half way  there. 

Dad…. I want so desperately to  be with you.  To keep you from  going  across.  I  selfishly want  more  time. More years…  I  still want to call you to chat.  I want to hear you  tell me  your stories again. I want you to laugh at the  things the kids do.  I want  you to  be here to tell my grandchildren stories.  Dad, I love you.  Please know that.. please don’t  forget that.   You will always be  my hero.


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