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!