The older I get, the more suffering and
pain I’ve experienced; and the more of both I stand witness to. From my wife’s
(and many, many of our friends and coworkers) battle against breast cancer; to
my dad’s (and the parents of many of our friends and coworkers) process as he
fades away as this complex disease breaks the connections between more and more
memories, I have become not only frustrated with suffering, pain, and having to
watch both, I have been witness to the suffering and pain among the students I
serve as a school counselor. I have become angry and sometimes paralyzed. This
is my attempt to lift myself from the occasional stifling grief that darkens my
days…
If you skim this
blog, you know that my dad died a bit over a month ago of…while not precisely
complications of Alzheimer’s, then a series of events precipitated by his Alzheimer’s
symptoms.
I guess it’s hard
for me to say that Dad “died of Alzheimer’s, because it’s not a “deadly disease”
like measles or breast cancer or bubonic plague or influenza. The end result
was the same no matter what.
During the
years-long experience – I started my Alzheimer’s portion of this blog in September
of 2016 – I learned a lot and I felt a lot. I learned the language of Alzheimer’s
and how others treated people with Alzheimer’s.
But perhaps the hardest
part for me was watching my dad’s personality drain away. At his funeral, people
at the gathering repeatedly mentioned that my dad “liked to have a good time”.
A few people shared stories and everyone there was able to imagine ANOTHER
instance where it was obvious that he enjoyed life and enjoyed enhancing it
with sports – both playing and watching, as well as hosting and going to
parties. The parties started when he met my mother! That’s a lot of years of
parties!
By the time he
passed on February 4, 2019, we were lucky if he spoke while we were sitting
with him in his apartment for an hour – and this was before he had his stroke.
He was often virtually silent when I went to spend short periods of time with
him several times a week. He seemed distant, not intentionally, but because he
simply seemed to be living in a moment and didn’t see much reason to comment on
anything that he’d already commented on over the previous 87 years.
That was hard
until I learned to just sit. Just “be” as the Mindfulness people say. When I
quit fretting; quit enumerating the things I “had to do”, I started enjoying my
time with him more; not because of the sparkling conversation, or physical
humor, or streams of jokes (THAT’S how I deal with one of my brothers), but
just sitting with him. Sometimes we didn’t talk for the entire time, only
occasionally looking at each other, usually with a TV on between us, but
sometimes in silence. We never did do music, except for when the recreational
director led singing or we went to a concert together in the second floor
theater. Then he’d sing and laugh and clap.
When he did pass
away, I was at peace with it. Of course I missed him, but I felt as if I’d spent
“quality time” with him as we sat in his dimly lit, very warm apartment. It’s
hard to understand now, but this period of simply sitting with him came out of
an article I commented on here, https://breastcancerreaper.blogspot.com/2018/11/guys-gotta-talk-aboutalzheimers-20-what.html
Dad’s reality was
very different from mine. He was sometimes frustrated because, as an active
man, he’d rarely stay in one place, let alone sit still. But as Alzheimer’s
progressed, he slowed down – not by choice, but because his brain wasn’t
functioning at peak efficiency. But slowing down sometimes offers us a chance
to see the world from a different perspective; again, he didn’t WANT this, but
it was his reality and it was slower than the one he’d spent his first 85 years
in. Though it frustrated him, it gave me a glimpse into what it would be like
to slow down a bit for myself. I’ve taken to sitting by our fireplace more
often now, sometimes even in the morning before I go to work.
He’s at peace now,
but I think he imparted a little bit of that peace to me even before he passed
away. I’d like to continue to cultivate that sense as I grow older, myself.
Job 5: 23 says, “For
you will be in league with the stones of the field, And the beasts of the field
will be at peace with you.”
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