Sign from above

I sat in my car during my lunch hour to try and get some rest.  I haven’t been sleeping well and it seems as if I have started to grow anxious on days I plan to visit with dad.  I think it is a mixture of just being frustrated with the whole process and worrying about how dad is going to be.  Lately things have changed with his blood sugar levels and he is not his usual, cheery self. 

 

I found myself not being able to close my eyes and rest because dad kept popping into my mind.  Is he ok?  Is he sad?  Is his blood sugar ok today?  Does he get lonely?  Is there any time through out the day where is memory is clear?  Does he know I love him?  Does he know I am sorry he is going through this?  And then the tears started.  I sat for a little while longer asking myself over and over again these questions.  Then I looked up to Heaven and I asked God out loud to give me a sign.  To give me a sign that dad is ok.  Then the thought of an owl came to me and I asked God to show me an owl.  I told myself I needed to see an owl to feel deep in my heart and secure that dad was going to be ok.  I cleaned my smeared mascara off my cheeks and walked back into work and didn’t think another thing about it.

 

After work, as I was driving to see dad, I again asked God if he would show me an owl.  I explained that I understood that knowing ahead of time what the future holds is not something I can have.  I explained that I understood that I have nothing to do with the timing of things.  I said that I believe that the plan he has for us is much greater than I could ever understand in this moment. I explained that I wasn’t asking for any explanations.  I simply needed a sign that all was going to be ok with dad.  And if I could have this sign, I would be able to keep pushing forward and being strong for my parents, my family, and myself. 

 

When I arrived, dad was sitting at the dinner table.  When I approached the table he smiled and he said, “well there she is!”.  The gentleman sitting with dad asked who I was and dad responded with “This is my daughter.”  I asked dad if I could sit down with him and he said “of course.”  I noticed his place setting for dinner was on the other side of where he was sitting.  A nurse walked by and mentioned to me that he was supposed to sit on the other side.  I stood up and took his plate, silverware, and cup and placed it in front of him.  I figured it would be a much easier task to move the place setting than try and explain to dad he needed to play musical chairs.  As I am scooting my chair to the other side of dad, I glanced up to my left.  Against the wall is a row of built in book shelves.  I have seen them and looked at them and their contents every visit I have had.  They are nice shelves filled with puzzles and books, with a few knick knacks here and there.  Dad and I have stood there a few times while he has showed me some puzzles with locks (great for working on fine motor skills) and folded napkins (one day dad thought he was working in a restaurant). 

 

To the left at the very top of the shelf sat an owl.  It was made out of metal and painted different colors.  When I tell you, I couldn’t believe what I saw…I mean it.  I looked away, looked back and it was still there.  I even said out loud, “you’ve got to be kidding me.”  Noone seemed to notice me or my flabbergasted expression so I took my cell phone out of my pocket and snapped the picture.  Then I looked up to Heaven and whispered, “Thank you.” 

 

The rest of the evening went on with short conversations here and there, a lot of nodding off into sleep (dad of course), and a whole lot of thankfulness.  It still hurts, the reality of all of this still stings, and the process is frustrating, but I can find peace in knowing that my dad is going to be ok.  We are all going to be ok.  (Silver lining).

 

Always a provider

Every person that has ever met my dad would probably tell you that he would give you the shirt off his back.  And my response to that is, he would probably give you his pants, his socks, and his shoes too.  My dad is a provider, even in the midst of having Alzheimer’s. 

We were visiting dad and dinner time came upon us. Dennis helped my dad out of his chair, and we led him to the dining area.  Dad’s place sitting had already been placed and he was ready to eat.  On the menu for this evening was chicken noodle soup and BLT’s.  Once he was served, he dug right in.  Now here is a man who was clearly hungry.  As he disassembled his sandwich, he cut a piece of the bacon in half and handed me a piece and Dennis a piece.  We gladly accepted it and smiled.  Then he took a slice of bread, laid it on the table, and placed a slice of bacon on it.  He took his knife and cut it up and with a smile, he pushed it over to Will.  Will is my picky eater.  He won’t eat anything with color in it, especially green.  The blander the better. If something looks off to him, he won’t even try it.  So, as I am watching my dad cut up this bread on the table, I thought there is no way Will would eat it.   But he took it like a champ and picked up the slice of bacon, plopped it in his mouth and told Grandpa it was good with a smile.  God bless his sweet, sweet heart (silver lining).  Grandpa looked pleased and continued eating. 

 

I am almost positive there were times my parents went without to provide for us.  They never shared that with us, but I know that there were times in my life where big life changes happened such as career changes, big moves, and loss of jobs.  But the one thing that was consistent was, I never went without. 

As a child, I always had the latest toys.  Christmas, birthdays, and even Valentine’s Day never came without receiving something special.  And to be honest, it wasn’t even saved for special occasions.  At times, I would get a toy for no real reason at all, other than my parents loving me.  I always had clothes and shoes.  Every new school year started out with a new outfit or two. 

As I grew into a teen, I learned what hard work was like.  I had to get a job or two to help pay for gas and extras, but if I ever needed a few dollars here and there, dad would always get out his wallet.  Sports and extra-curricular activities were expensive, but I never had to not participate because my parents couldn’t provide for me.  Whether it was a new tennis racket or reeds for my clarinet, I always got what I needed. 

College was another time in my life where my parents continued to provide for me.  I was prepared (so I thought) to live on my own, buy my own meals, make my own way.  And boy let me tell you, nothing beats seeing your parents drive up with a sack or two of groceries when you were down to eating macaroni noodles with ketchup (poor college student spaghetti).  And for some reason, they always knew when to show up.

And continue to provide they did, even as I graduated college, got a job, and moved away.  There was always a card that would magically appear in the mail with a fresh $20 bill.  20 years ago, that would easily have bought a tank of gas or a really fun night out with my friends!

We always had a roof over our head that was clean and well maintained.  We always had a refrigerator full of food.  We always had heat, water, and air conditioning.  We got extras, like trips to the mountains and Washington D.C.  We always had a vehicle that got us from point A to point B. 

But most importantly, we were provided with parents who loved us, wanted nothing but better for us, and taught us to be good humans.  And as I sat there with dad and witnessed him share his food with us, I was humbled.  As I look back over my past 47 years, I think of how lucky I am as a person. How lucky I am to have had this life and this provider.  Some people never get this in their lifetime, and here I am having had it for 47 years.  And that is a pretty big silver lining. 

 

 

 

 

 When I was in my mid-twenties, trying to figure out life, who I was, who I wanted to be, and why...mom and dad were wondering when they were, if they were ever gonna be grandparents.  My generation tends to wait a little longer than my parents generation did with the whole get married and start having children thing.  Little did we know that it would be Heath, that would start the next chapter.

Ella and Anna came into our lives at the perfect time.  Dennis and I wanted to have our own children, but had no clue what that even looked like or if that was even in our cards.  So being an aunt and uncle first was a blessing (silver lining).  However, seeing how much my mom and dad loved the girls, made me reeeaaallllly want to experience that with them as well.  

The first time I met my beautiful sister in-law Katy, I knew she was the one.  When she told me she had 2 little girls, it sealed the deal for me!  As for my parents too.  I knew they were excited to have grandbabies and do all the fun things grandparents do.  I can't share details of the memories Ella and Anna have with my dad because they are not my memories to share.  But what I can share are the long conversations I had with my dad before Alzheimer's took over where he told me how much they mean to him and how proud he was to be their grandpa.  I can share with you how I witnessed his face light up watching Anna dance ballet and how he had a good laugh every time he retold the story of taking Ella to a carousel where she went around and around asking each lap,  "One more time Ony, one more time?"  I can share how I saw him go back into time remembering my childhood watching Anna perform in show choir and Ella play basketball.  I can share that he was always so proud to introduce the 2 of them to anyone around.  He was and he is proud to be their grandpa.   

I know there will be many moments yet to come where our heart aches that dad won't be there and I just don't hate that for myself, I hate it for my entire family.  Looking back through pictures, I found so many of us laughing, having fun, and being together.  And we are still making memories like the picture above.  Ella giving dad a haircut.  It is probably not the same as doing it at the house and dad probably doesn't talk as much or asks Ella as many questions as before but a memory is still being made.  

So the silver lining is this...I have many.  I found many, many pictures which tells me that we are blessed to have had so many moments together.  We have had many years together and I am so thankful for that. And I have many thanks to give to my beautiful nieces who not only were my dad's first grandbabies, but the ones to make him so proud.

Adventures

 When I was a little kid, my dad would take us on adventures. I imagine he was nervous and excited all at the same time. Him not knowing how the adventure would go, whether it would be fun or if we would hate it. But when I think back, I realize some of my fondest memories are from those adventures.

My first ever adventure was when I was 2. I do not remember this adventure, but from the stories I have heard over the years, it was quite the adventure…one that would be frowned upon in today’s society. Imagine me being 2 years old, wearing bib overalls, and standing on a bucket seat of my dads pick up truck. My little arm around his neck while eating cracklins as he handed them to me.  I imagine the windows down, country music playing in the background, and the smell of old spice and leather seats. I imagine dad being very careful going around corners, but making it seem like we were driving Indy cars…telling me to “hold on, Nes! “I imagine mom standing in the driveway waving us off for our morning of fishing, feeling nervous.   She would be yelling to my dad as we drove away to watch me near the water. But I can’t help but think she was also feeling lucky. Lucky to have a husband who loved his little girl with all his heart knowing he would be the first one in the river if she were to fall in.

Throughout my life, dad has taken me on many adventures from rattlesnake roundups and trips up Mt. Saint Helen’s, to salmon fishing in the mountains to snipe hunts on our many camping trips. I am sure that every adventure began with the hope of memories being made. But also, with fear of the unknown. This week was no different for me.

I am not a fan of my dad being in the nursing home. It is no secret, everyone that knows me is aware that I am not happy about it. I think about dad as if he doesn’t have Alzheimer’s disease. I imagine he is wondering all day where we are at and why he is there. I think he understands he is somewhere other than home. I think that he is sad and feeling abandoned my us. And then I witness myself just how bad the disease is taking him away.

Dennis, the boys, and I picked dad up to take him out for pizza. I walked in the dining area and found dad sitting with my favorite ladies getting ready to eat. He hadn’t been served his food yet, so I asked him if he wanted to go and get pizza. He was very confused. I told him the boys were in the car waiting for us and we had “reservations” to get pizza. 25 minutes later with the help of a few aides, dad was buckled in tight and ready to go.

He hadn’t been out of the nursing home in over 6 weeks. I was excited to see if he acted different. I was scared he would hate it and it would make him upset. I kept watching his face for any changes. All I got was a blank stare. Once inside the restaurant, he seemed a little more relaxed. The waiter brought over parmesan cheese and hot pepper flakes. Dennis got us our root beers, and the boys brought us over plates, silverware, and napkins. It wasn’t long before dad was pouring the cheese and pepper flakes onto his plate. I didn’t say anything, just watched. He then took his root beer and poured some onto his plate and stirred the concoction all together and started eating. We all laughed when dad told us it was a little too hot for his liking. I advised he might want to wait for the bread sticks to dip in the flakes before he continued. The bread sticks arrived, and dad ate one. When he was finished, he folded up his napkin into a shape of a bread stick, dipped it in the cheese and started eating it. It wasn’t long before he realized it wasn’t a bread stick. After dad devoured two small corners of the pizza, he told us he was stuffed.

As soon as dad got into the car, he looked at me and said, “where are we going for ice cream?” So of course, our adventure had one more stop. We stopped off at a drive in and got vanilla scoops in cups. We ate in silence. I wanted to cry because I wondered if that was the last time I would ever eat ice cream with my dad. I wondered if this adventure was uncomfortable for him. But then a silver lining hit me, and I realized I was having ice cream with my dad right then. There was no reason to think about the future. I needed to be present in the now. We finished up our ice cream and drove away. I dreaded taking him back to the nursing home. But when one of the nurses asked him how dinner was, he reported it was good and he also got some ice cream!

Birthday and lemons

I had brought him a piece of lemon meringue pie since it was his birthday.  When I told him I had something for him, he asked if it had any thing to do with lemons.  He remembered.  

We wished him a Happy birthday, but he didn't seem to understand what we were wishing him.  Someone at the dinner table asked him how old he was and he responded with "I don't really know."  It didn't seem to make sense to keep going on about his birthday as guilty as that felt.  I wanted to sing the traditional song and open presents.  I wanted to be gathered around the table or the back porch talking about past birthdays.  I wanted us to celebrate this day just like we had done years past.  But like I keep telling myself, make new memories.  And that is just what we did.

After dinner was over, we went into the living area and sat on the couches.  We did some small talk, dad did the most of the talking.  Still not sure what it was about but I nodded to every word.  Before long, we were joined by 5 other sweet souls that share this living space with my dad.  First Juliet, Mary Ellen, and Rosemary wheeled in.  A sweet and kind nurse wheeled in George and then came in Clara.  The nurse asked all of us if we wanted to watch a movie.  No one but me really answered.  So she put on a classic Elvis movie, "Clambake."  Once the music started I sat back and witnessed something so much better than any Elvis movie.  I watched 5 people who have had their lives cut short with Dementia enjoy something with their whole entire being without a care in the world.  Something that I could only be so thankful for.  It was a lesson I didn't know I needed.

It is not fair that any of these wonderful people have to be there.  They all had lives before this disease took them over.  They had families, careers, and memories.  They had experiences that are now just lost to them.  But they are not angry.  They are still as sweet and beautiful as they were 20 years ago, just with a little different mindset.  

Mary Ellen.  I could go on for hours about her.  She reminds me of my little granny.  She is tiny and her voice matches.  She motioned me over and I went over and knelt beside her. I noticed her striking blue eyes, very, very blue.  She mumbles something to me about her hair and asked me if I thought it was ok that way.  I nodded and said, "Mary Ellen you are beautiful!"  She put her hand to her mouth and giggled a little and said "Oh my, thank you."  I joined dad back on the couch and watched her for a little longer.  I imagine her being a spit fire when she was younger.  A beautiful, petite lady that would have no problem putting you in your place if you needed it.  I imagine her being a carefree soul with flowers in her hair.

Juliet.  Oh sweet Juliet.  I can imagine her as a young girl being the one who had to wear shorts or pants under her dresses because she was always side by side with the neighborhood boys racing bicycles and climbing trees.  She was strong willed and determined.  I imagine she was successful in her life with whatever it was she did.  She wheeled herself to the bathroom, determined to do it herself.  Unfortunately Dementia has taken a lot of that free will away and she had to holler for help. I ran into the bathroom, but realized the job was too much for me.  Thankfully a nurse had walked by just at the right time.  

Rosemary.  She marches to her own drum.  She is confident and does what she feels like doing.  Every time I see her, she is in a different hat.  Today was a bright red bucket cap.  And she looked marvelous.  I bet at one time, she was fancy and attended many dinner parties.  I imagine she was the life of the party.  I looked over, and she was sound asleep.

Clara.  Clara is a very classy, lovely lady.  She is beautiful.  I imagine her being the type of person I could sit on a porch for hours with.  Talking about world events and vintage flea market finds.  Clara is silent as she watches the movie.

George.  George doesn't talk much, but I imagine at one time, he could talk to you about anything and everything.  I imagine he was up to date with the world's top news and was a history buff.  I imagine he was a great story teller, one that could make any thing come to life.  He sat there not really watching the movie, but his mind was somewhere else.  I like to think he was remembering something that meant a lot to him.  

Everyone of these individuals have had a previous life.  A life that I will never know for sure about.  A life taken away too soon, this I do know for sure.  The music starts to play again and Elvis is singing to a group of children about confidence.  I look around the room and all of a sudden, everyone was awake and watching.  Some of them clasped there hands together.  I heard some remarks on how sweet the children were in the movie.  I heard a few "ohs and awes."  I saw smiles.  I saw a few heads nod.  And in that moment, here was a group of people who have every reason to be bitter and angry for the situation they have been given...but in that moment, it was pure joy.  Not a care in the world.  I looked over at dad and he started singing the song along with Elvis.  He knew the song.  I started to hum along too.  Something I would have thought twice about doing ever before.  But I wanted to live in that moment.  Be in that moment.  I didn't want to care about anything, just enjoy.  And that is what I did.  I left that night in such a good mood.  I had fun.  I had fun watching the movie and I learned a lot in those short 2 hours.  I learned that when life gives you lemons, enjoy the lemon meringue pie when you get the chance.  (Silver lining).

Note:  These are real people, but for privacy reasons, I did not use their real names.  

 

Hands of time

 I can't remember the last time I held dad's hand. I imagine it was back when I was a little kid. A young child needing saftey to cross the street or needing reassurance when faced with unfamiliar places. I imagine I held his hand a lot as I always felt safe as a child. 

This particular evening as we sat on the patio, I said to myself that I needed him this day to reassure that all was going to be alright.  I wanted to turn the hands of time and go back to when I was a child.  I wanted to go back to any and all moments where I had felt scared and have dad grab my hand and make it all better. 

Dad fell asleep and the first thing I did was reach for his hand. It is amazing to me that something as simple as holding someones hand can make troubles melt away.  A sense of peace came over me and for a moment, nothing seemed horrible. It was just dad and I with nothing but time on our hands. 

 I had a very hard time letting go of his hand.  But the sun was setting and the staff was wanting to get everyone settled in for the night. So I quickly reached for my phone to snap this picture so I would always have this as a memory.  But it is so much more than that to me.  It was a feeling of saftey and a way for dad to help me through this time.  I know Alzheimers has taken most of dads memory but I truly believe he felt all of this in his heart.  He may not have known who's hand he was holding and who's heart he was healing, but the feeling of saftey and love that comes from holding ones hand is something you can't unfeel.  And that is a silver lining. 

The garden

 

When I arrived to visit dad, I found him walking around the dining tables using one of the chairs as his walker.  I stood there and watched him for a moment and then he looked up and saw me.  He smiled and said “Hey good lookin!”  He had just finished up his dinner and said he was helping “pick up all the boxes”.  Boxes of what, I did not ask but he was definitely on a mission.  One of the sweet nurses asked him who I was and he responded that I was his great granddaughter.  I just smiled.  She told dad to go sit down and visit with me and he insisted that he had work to do and needed to get the boxes in order.  She told him that she would take care of it and he could leave.  I winked at her and said “Dad, she is giving you the night off,” and dad responded with “Well, hot damn!” 

 

I gave dad his walker and asked him if we could sit down.  He lead me straight to the door to the outdoor garden.  As we entered the garden, he said he was going to take the truck and run to the bank.  He said he had to get some money out.  I told him we could go to the bank later but I wanted to sit for a while.  It was pouring down rain but there is an awning over the rocking chairs, so we picked 2 chairs and sat down. 

 

It is a very pretty, well kept garden area that is a perfect and quite place to sit.  There are shrubs, flower bushes, tomato plants, and humming bird feeders.  If you look, you will find a few hidden peacocks  amongst the shrubs as well as beaded lanyards( I assume they were made by some of the sweet souls who live here) draped over the iron flag holders.  Dad was very talkative this evening.  He talked a lot about farming.  How my brother is now a farmer and not too sure how to use the big equipment.  He talked about an addition he was putting on the side of his house and even pointed to the wall and said “that is where it will be.”  He asked me if I saw the cat that had just walked by and the bat flying through the air.  We talked about how pretty the garden was and he informed me that my mom has been really working hard at keeping it nice.  He asked me what I planned to do with all of those potatoes and pointed to a path of rocks in the garden.  I told him I was going to fix him some fried potatoes.  He said he really wanted to get to the bank and something about giving mom $1000.00 and she can do whatever she would like with it.  In between, he would ask where mom was.  I told her she was at work, napping, or at the store.  All which he was fine with.  He mentioned that mom was “looking hot! “and that he loved her. I reminded him that she loves him too.  Without even taking a breath he said he was going to can all of those tomatoes growing in the distance.  And then dad smacked my leg (in a playful way) and said, “Thank you for being my daughter.”  I will never forget these words.  It was so real and sincere and so out of context of everything we had been talking about the past hour.  But that one sentence will stay with me forever.  Silver lining.  I told dad thank you for being my dad, and we sat there for a moment in silence.  I looked away because I didn’t want him to see me crying.  But when I looked back towards him he was sound asleep. 

 

I watched my dad sleep, prayed, and remembered.  Remembered watching my dad in his garden over the years, and just how much pride he took in that garden.  I wish my dad was still tilling the weeds and watering the corn that would grow so tall.  I wish I could go over to his house and smell the stench of horseradish  after a day of picking.  I wish I  could sit on the back deck and eat stalks of rhubarb with him.  But life took a different turn, and now I am sitting in a garden with my dad that he didn’t plant, one that he didn’t nurture and make beautiful.  And I start to feel sorry for myself and then I remember him thanking me for being his daughter and I smile.  New garden, new memory.  I’ll take it. 

 

New season of life

 

Our lives will never be the same.  And that is a very hard pill to swallow.  So where do we go from here?

We take it one day at a time, that is what we do. 

We take the bad days, we cry, and we keep moving.

We take the good days, we feel blessed, and we keep moving.

We hold on to the memories and smile.

We make new memories and smile.

We get into our new routine and keep moving.

And we always look for the silver linings…

 

I don’t think dad has got into a routine yet.  I still think all of this is so new to him and I know that it is going to take time.  It is going to take time for him to settle and it is going to take time for all of us to accept this reality.  But the one thing that will never change is the love we have for each other.  I have learned that the love we have as a family is something that can not be broken.  I was talking to my mom and brother the other night and it was really neat to think about the fact that the four of us; me, my brother, mom, and dad have been a family unit for 43 years.  We have been through so much together and have had a great life together.  We have enjoyed many moments, shared many important things, and have also got through some pretty tough times.  But the one thing that has never changed is that we have always been there…together…for each other…no matter what.  And this will continue I know, in a different way, but we will always be a family.  (Silver lining). 

 When I started this blog, I thought I had years of weekly lunches with my dad at Perkins.  Never in a million years did I think that within a few short months, I would have to start seeing dad live away from us.  Was I blind to how bad it is with him or am I selfish?  I don't know right now, I need to figure that out and will hopefully one day be at peace with all of this.  For now, all I can do is take it one day at a time...no one minute at a time.

So part of this blog was to help me see the good in every day.  The good in this horrible situation.  Because I honestly believe that there is a reason for everything that happens.  All though, I haven't seen a good enough reason for all of this; I trust that one day I will know and my faith tells me that God has a bigger plan.

It has been several weeks since I have felt any peace, hope, or goodness.  I have been living on coffee, adrenaline, and fear.  I didn't care about silver linings.  I was almost willing to never write again.  But today I saw a silver lining. 

I sat at a table surrounded by my family this morning.  My husband, my boys, my mom, my brother, Katy, Ella, Anna, and Charlotte.  We laughed and talked, but we all knew one piece of our family was missing.  How many tables have we sat around the last few decades+ with dad at the head of it? Too many to count.  It didn't feel right to me.  It felt to me, like we were cheating on dad.  While he was sitting alone in a nursing home, we were all together.  It didn't feel real to me.  I actually quit eating my breakfast because I was so sick to my stomach thinking about our missing link.  

I let my family out at the front door and went and parked the car.    I said a little prayer, put on my brave face...and walked in.  As the 10 of us walked through the doors, we could see dad sitting off by himself.  We all started waving at him and that wonderful smile he has lit up his whole face as he waved back.  We hugged and kissed him.  

As we all surrounded dad and listened to him tell us about his trip to the airport, how he got kicked out of his room because it was being cleaned, how he knew there was something downstairs that needed to be fixed but couldn't remember what it was, and how the ladies here should sale the strawberries for money because they would make a lot, I looked around and there we all were...together.  Silver lining.

Silent Warrior

 I am posting this over a week late.  But with understandable reason.  I won't get into much of the details right now, but dad is not doing well.  It has now been a week since the decline and there have been many changes in a very short period of time.  Changes that need time, patience, and adjustment.  Just know we are hanging in there, still trying to search for the silver linings. 

With that being said, last Tuesday, I still had my lunch date at Perkins, however, it was with my mom.  Dad was unable to come, but mom showed up for me (silver lining).  This, I will be forever grateful.  The lunch hour was filled with talk about dad, the one topic that we seem to have so much to talk about these days.  We cry, we laugh, we reminisce, and we plan.    

Mom has been the main caregiver for dad since his diagnoses.  She has seen him go from good to not so good, not so good to bad, and bad to worse in a closer and more intimate way that anyone else has.  24 hours, 7 days a week, she has been faced with the reality of what is happening to dad.  So every time she needs to get something off her chest, I am more than happy to listen.   However, I know my mom and I know that she only calls me a few times out of the hundreds of times she is hurting. I think it is because she thinks she is bothering me, but that is so far from the truth.  I have watched her face the ugliness of this disease with a brave face.  Not always, but more often than not.  

I have tried to be the glue, the glue keeping everyone together.  Reminding her and others that we will get through this, dad will be ok, and it was best to accept this trial we have been given and look for all the silver linings.  But last night, I lost it.  I am sad and angry that things have come to this stage.  I do not want dad to leave their home.  I don't want to finalize that.  As mom sat with me, she explained to me that it was time for me to accept this part of the journey.  The part of letting go of what I can't control.  I guess I thought that if dad could just stay in the home with her, that would mean we weren't giving up.  That we could always keep him safe and protected.  But as I cried, she reassured me that we are not giving up, we are just taking the next (hard) step in this journey.  

The idea of dad living else where without her, still makes me sad.  It still makes my stomach get in knots and my heart race.  When I get angry, I get silent.  Hence why this has taken longer to post. So I am taking things minute by minute.  I will just have to figure this new way of life out and figure out a new way of doing things.  And I will.  We all will.  I have a lot of support between family and friends and I know they are here for me when my glue starts to fade and lose it's strength (silver lining).

As mom and I finished up our lunch the waiter asked us if we needed anything else.  I ordered a slice of lemon meringue pie to go and handed it to mom.  I needed dad to know I didn't forget about him or the special moments we have shared the last few months.  And I need mom to know that her showing up for me meant the world!   

Coffee talk on the front porch

 At 11:30 on Tuesday morning, I was sitting at my desk finishing up some work before I was to leave for my weekly lunch date with dad.  My phone rang and it was mom.  She had said that it had been a rough night with dad as he had been up most of the night and couldn't sleep which also meant no sleep for her either.  She said he was having a rough morning and she didn't think lunch was a good idea.  

At 3:30 p.m. my phone rings and it was mom again.  She was very upset and I could hardly get out what she was trying to tell me.  I heard "911" and then the slam of the phone.  I rushed to their house where I was greeted at the door by dad.  I asked him what was going on and he just shrugged and sat down in his chair.  

I learned that he had not eaten since noon the day before.  He also had refused to take his medication.  Mom was telling me she had tried but he was being sassy and not very nice to her.  Dad is also diabetic which is a recipe for disaster with all factors combined.  I asked mom to go out back and relax and that I would talk with dad. I sat down with dad but he started talking to the men on the tv as if they were in the room with us.  I knew the longer he went without some food, the worse he would probably get.   I went to the kitchen and made him a peanut butter sandwich.  I added some chips to the plate, grabbed his medicine, and a coke zero.  I took it out to dad and asked him to join me on the front porch.  He did with no resistance.  We sat there in silence for a bit while he ate his sandwich, took his medicine, and drank his coke.  

It was a beautiful day, one where the sky was bright blue with big fluffy clouds that looked like cotton candy.  There was a slight breeze from a rain storm that had come in the night before and the robins were chirping at each other.  I had my head back and was rocking in the chair with my eyes closed when dad said "My grass is looking really good."  Please see picture at top of page for reference and let me give you a back story.  

My dad loves his yard.  He loves anything to do with yard work.  He has always taken pride in having a  beautiful yard.  Every other week, he would mow the lawn in alternating diagonal lines to keep the grass growing even.  He used fertilizer religiously, and made sure the edges around the sidewalk were trimmed perfectly. The grass color was always a rich Kelly green, just like the Crayola crayon.  

About a year ago, a patch of grass in the front yard started to die.  We are not 100% sure what happened, but we have a feeling that dad had mistaken weed killer for fertilizer.  For the last year, my brother and my husband have spent time raking the spot, putting down new seed, fertilizing, and putting down new soil to try and get the patch to regrow.  The area is a perfect spot for regrowth and we have been puzzled as to why grass will not grow back there.  We have tried several different times with always the same outcome.  

I nodded and told dad that yes, I thought the yard was looking good.  He said he had been working hard on it and felt the coffee and hot sauce was helping.  I sat there for a minute not realizing what he had said at first, and then I asked him to repeat himself.  He said that the spot of dead grass was looking a lot better since he started pouring coffee and hot sauce on it in the mornings.  I wish I had my reaction on video because I imagine the look on my face was priceless.  I sat there for a minute, not sure how to respond.  So I asked dad why coffee and hot sauce and he said because if they can perk up a person, it should work the same on grass, you know...give it the "umph" it needs to grow.  I just chuckled and agreed with him.  

We sat on the porch for a little bit longer and talked about what had happened earlier.  He didn't remember the details other than he was mad  that mom had left him with people who were not his boss (home health care started the week before last and we are having someone come in to sit with dad 2 days a week to relieve mom).  By the time, I was ready to leave, he was calm, relaxed, fed, and had his medicine for the night.  All was well.

I have laughed over and over again this last week thinking about dad watering the lawn with coffee and hot sauce to "perk" it up.  Mom is always worried that having a full pot of coffee on the counter is keeping dad up at night.  But really all it is doing is keeping the grass in her front yard from growing.  

Alzheimer's Disease takes a lot away from dad and I do not find many positives that arise from him having it.  But small, sweet moments like this are priceless to me.  It is like he is a child and trying to figure things out for himself and I am proud of him for that.  And that is a silver lining.