Dementia

Dementia, I am dealing with it now, as we speak. My father, the man who taught me just about everything, the man who would warn any boy who wanted to date me, the man who walked me down the aisle, the man who beamed with great pride when he met his grandson, the man who’s stood behind most everything I’ve done, is slipping away. There are days when I can handle it, there are days I cannot. I look at Dad sometimes and see this incredible man who’s lived a blessed life, not always easy, but blessed for sure. And sometimes all I can see is the disease. Each day presents new challenges, old challenges and moments of great appreciation and love. It’s chaos AND calm. It’s heartbreak and loss. It’s laughter and sarcasm. It’s everything. It’s life. I don’t want sympathy, for that feels like pity, which I simply don’t feel. I am honored to be here for him, even though we have moments where we both want to walk away. The anger, the sadness, the love, the joy of life is all there, wrapped up in one torturous disease. Soon, he won’t know who I am. Soon, he won’t remember his own life. Soon, he will need me for everything. But not today. And today, I will cherish and each day I have with him. When he’s gone, I know I’ll go through all the stages of grieving. I know I will postulate all the things I could’ve done differently. Could I have been more patient? Could I have been a bit less rigid? Could I have been a little more conscious? The answers matter not. One thing I will hold dear, no matter what, I did my best to honor him, to care for him and protect him, as he did for me. And that is what holds me up today. Gives me strength to face each challenge, each loss of control, each burst of anger or sadness or confusion. Knowing I’ve gone into this consciously, without hesitation, understanding that it will be the most difficult thing I will ever face in my life. I’m not asking for accolades, for they are irrelevant. I’m not perfect, by any stretch of the imagination, nor do I expect it. I’m here, I love him and I hope that he knows he is always safe, loved and that he matters. Because in the end, it’s not about the things we acquire, it’s not about the money we made. It’s about the difference we make. It’s about the lessons we share, the wisdom we impart, the love we show. In the end, it’s about selfless acts of lovingkindness.