June 12, 2012

I feel more sad than usual. My visit yesterday with my Dad was the most difficult it has been for a long time. And I should mention I haven't seen him in over a month. He was OK. He was happy to see Sandra and I. I don't think he recognized my daughter, Amber.

It was a picture perfect day in York Harbor, Maine. Hi 70's F° and clear skies. Right away he thought we had come to take him away. He couldn't say where he wanted to be but someplace was for sure. It broke my heart to know that I wouldn't take him away, to where he wanted to go.

My life is a balancing act with two business, children and more interests than I can possibly attend. It was really all I could manage to just visit with him for an hour or two. It is all so difficult to balance. Difficult to place everything in an order that I won't regret. And realizing that the perfect solution is just a compromise.

None the less it made me sad to see my Dad sad. I felt powerless. And since communication is challenging at best and often impossible it is hard to express my empathy to him.

Alzheimer's is a dreadful sentence at times. Sometimes I see it's unexpected symptoms as graces. Often when I leave him from a visit I feel nice, like I made him feel good. But yesterday he was sad.

I realized he is still very much a person and is still more connected to the world than one might expect. His speech is feeble. His thoughts are shattered when he attempts to express himself. But in his thoughts he wants, desires and is full of emotion. He is in one of the most beautiful settings in York Harbor, far out of reach for most. But his heart does not belong here. This is not the place that he built with his hands, the place where he collected his tools and cut his trees. This is not the place where he feuded over land boundaries, took dates, dug rocks, and piled stuff behind his house and cherished it all. But he is here. And it is comfortable and warm. There are many people who take care of him with care and pride. Who greet him in the halls with genuine warmth and sincerity.

Who are we? How did we arrive here and what is the right thing to do. I don't remember asking to be born. I don't remember asking to be responsible for the happiness of my Dad. I am not sure of all the choices we make. I feel that for my Dad to be in an assisted living facility, in a lockdown ward is convenient. It is also very costly. I don't know of other reasonable solutions. So here he is. With more of a broken heart than I realize. And here I am unable to get a smile from him.