Two days ago I went to see my Dad. It was a perfect spring day. Everything outside was green as we walked from Sentry Hill along the paved road to Woodbridge Road and back. On our return we paused and sat in the sun on a bench over looking a one or two acre pond with fountain amidst the shingle style architecture. My Father liked the sun on his face. Although it was in the 70's he was bundled up in two heavy shirts.
My Dad made several attempts to tell me something that was on his mind. He could get the first 2 or 3 words out but then would loose his train of thought. He calls me by name, still. He looks more lost than a few months ago but there is still a person inside his body. A kind and loving person.
Earlier, upon my arrival and before our walk, I met with a lady from the State of Maine who was going to be making recommendations on how the staff would proceed with a relationship my father is having with a female resident. My father and his lady friend have displayed much mutual attraction for each other and have been noticed by the other residents and staff.
The lady from the state really wanted to know if his family consented to his being sexually active with another person. It seems that at certain times they will embrace and kiss each other. My father has also been found in her room in what would be questionable circumstances had he been married, though he is not.
My sister and I both agree that he can do anything he likes as does the guardian of his partner.
The lady from the state told me that although a relationship of such isn't common it happens and when both partners are consenting in her opinion it is wonderful.
After we returned from our walk we went out back to the fenced in courtyard. I left my Dad in a chair in the sun and told him I was leaving to go to work. He was very quiet, I didn't think he heard me. And when I moved closer to make eye contact he said, "Kev, things don't always work out the way you want them to." I realized at so many levels he and I were the same. Both still moving through life, unsure of tomorrow, unable to be liberated from our wants and desires.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Monday, April 5, 2010
April 5, 2010
Around 7 pm yesterday Sandra, Silas, Amber and myself stopped by Sentry Hill to visit my Dad. We had spent the afternoon in Worcester with Nathaniel. We picked Nathaniel up from Clark University and drove to a park near Worcester Polytech. It was a perfect afternoon, 75°F and sunny. Sandra had made a picnic lunch and this is how we celebrated Easter.
The night before I had a dream with my Father. We were on a wharf or a large deck. There was no day light, maybe moonlight. We were both moving freely to the edge. There was no rail and as we got closer I could see no bottom beyond the edge. My Father seemed to be in the same state of mind that he was 10 years ago. He was lucid, quick to react and in control of his surroundings. Although he was moving very fast toward the edge.
As it appeared he was going to fall over the edge I grabbed him and pulled him back. I held him in my arms and he embraced me. I told him I loved him more than once. I woke up crying. I was sad. My Dad had become very much like a child. I had dreams similar to this when my children were younger. They would take off down a sidewalk, fall off a bridge and in those dreams it took all I had to rescue them. Or I would wake up before I had rescued them. Those dreams always put me on a heightened awareness in the real world and I would be perhaps overly cautious with my kids due to these dreams.
The dream with my Dad was so similar except my children had their whole lives ahead of them and my father is 81 and has a terminal disease. In this dream I had become the protector. But the most significant aspect of the dream was the embrace, the holding on and his mental state.
I had thought about the dream throughout our trip to Worcester and was anxious to get back to York to see my Dad. We found him sitting in a chair in a partial daze. It seems to take a while for him to realize who we are and that we are not strangers. He referred to me as Kev and asked if he could leave with us at the end of our visit. It is heart breaking to tell him he must stay as he is trying to pass through the door with me.
The night before I had a dream with my Father. We were on a wharf or a large deck. There was no day light, maybe moonlight. We were both moving freely to the edge. There was no rail and as we got closer I could see no bottom beyond the edge. My Father seemed to be in the same state of mind that he was 10 years ago. He was lucid, quick to react and in control of his surroundings. Although he was moving very fast toward the edge.
As it appeared he was going to fall over the edge I grabbed him and pulled him back. I held him in my arms and he embraced me. I told him I loved him more than once. I woke up crying. I was sad. My Dad had become very much like a child. I had dreams similar to this when my children were younger. They would take off down a sidewalk, fall off a bridge and in those dreams it took all I had to rescue them. Or I would wake up before I had rescued them. Those dreams always put me on a heightened awareness in the real world and I would be perhaps overly cautious with my kids due to these dreams.
The dream with my Dad was so similar except my children had their whole lives ahead of them and my father is 81 and has a terminal disease. In this dream I had become the protector. But the most significant aspect of the dream was the embrace, the holding on and his mental state.
I had thought about the dream throughout our trip to Worcester and was anxious to get back to York to see my Dad. We found him sitting in a chair in a partial daze. It seems to take a while for him to realize who we are and that we are not strangers. He referred to me as Kev and asked if he could leave with us at the end of our visit. It is heart breaking to tell him he must stay as he is trying to pass through the door with me.
Monday, March 15, 2010
March 15, 2010
Today is Monday. It has been raining all day and all day yesterday. We have considerable flooding here in the Northeast. I am tired of the rain and anxious to see the sun.
I drove Nathaniel back to Clark University in Worcester, MA this morning. It rained the 2 hour ride down and back. I hydroplaned in a few places.
Last night Nathaniel and I went to visit my Dad at Sentry Hill. Nathaniel didn't really want to go visit him. I didn't insist, though I did tell him that last week I told his grandfather that I would bring Nathaniel by when he came home for spring break. Like myself, Nathaniel felt guilty and we ventured out into the dark windy rainy night to see my Dad.
There is a brook that intersects our driveway and on the way out noticed the water was at the very top of the culverts. This could mean our culverts (2) are on the verge of being washed away. I called Sandra and we parked the other two cars on the opposite side of the brook from the house in case the worst happened.
My father was snoozing very lightly when Nathaniel and I walked in. He was sitting close to a large propane fireplace. It was very warm and comfortable. He recognized us and was happy to see Nathaniel. We took a long walk through the building and up some stairs. We chatted about nothing that seemed important but all enjoyed being together. He had misplaced his senior Olympic medals and we took a look in his room for them. Whereupon we found his new room mate in the room with only the bathroom light on. His name is Francis Raynes. He is from Kittery, he told us Cutts Island.
Francis seemed like a very nice person. He was friendly and had some dementia though not as advanced as my father.
My father also was very pleasant to be with. I am pleased (and proud) that he is so good natured. It is easy to provoke a smile from him. I am very pleased that Nathaniel did go with me. For many years I have had dreams that I didn't visit my grandmother, who lived next door, enough. I would wake up from the dreams which were so realistic and all though she had passed away years ago, I was hopeful that she might still be alive and I could visit her. Or sometimes in the dreams she was alive and I hadn't seen her in 10-20 years. And when I finally do see her she is much older than my recollections but happy to see me, forgiving. Yet I would still be laden with guilt.
I wondered last night if those dreams were to insure I don't let the lack of visiting become an issue with my kids. It is very strange but often I think of my Dad and am content knowing that I love him and he is safe. My need to spend time with him has diminished from over a year ago when he first went into Sentry Hill.
We hung out with my father for an hour and a half and said our goodbyes. As we did an older lady approached us with a walker and asked if she could leave with us. And then she asked us if she were dreaming. I told her I wasn't dreaming so I suspected she wasn't either. Nathaniel and I walked back out into the rainy dark. The stubborn dark night had not given an inch since we had gone inside. Windy, wet, wet. I am not a proponant of so much rain and even less of snow. So I had that to be grateful for, I suppose.
I drove Nathaniel back to Clark University in Worcester, MA this morning. It rained the 2 hour ride down and back. I hydroplaned in a few places.
Last night Nathaniel and I went to visit my Dad at Sentry Hill. Nathaniel didn't really want to go visit him. I didn't insist, though I did tell him that last week I told his grandfather that I would bring Nathaniel by when he came home for spring break. Like myself, Nathaniel felt guilty and we ventured out into the dark windy rainy night to see my Dad.
There is a brook that intersects our driveway and on the way out noticed the water was at the very top of the culverts. This could mean our culverts (2) are on the verge of being washed away. I called Sandra and we parked the other two cars on the opposite side of the brook from the house in case the worst happened.
My father was snoozing very lightly when Nathaniel and I walked in. He was sitting close to a large propane fireplace. It was very warm and comfortable. He recognized us and was happy to see Nathaniel. We took a long walk through the building and up some stairs. We chatted about nothing that seemed important but all enjoyed being together. He had misplaced his senior Olympic medals and we took a look in his room for them. Whereupon we found his new room mate in the room with only the bathroom light on. His name is Francis Raynes. He is from Kittery, he told us Cutts Island.
Francis seemed like a very nice person. He was friendly and had some dementia though not as advanced as my father.
My father also was very pleasant to be with. I am pleased (and proud) that he is so good natured. It is easy to provoke a smile from him. I am very pleased that Nathaniel did go with me. For many years I have had dreams that I didn't visit my grandmother, who lived next door, enough. I would wake up from the dreams which were so realistic and all though she had passed away years ago, I was hopeful that she might still be alive and I could visit her. Or sometimes in the dreams she was alive and I hadn't seen her in 10-20 years. And when I finally do see her she is much older than my recollections but happy to see me, forgiving. Yet I would still be laden with guilt.
I wondered last night if those dreams were to insure I don't let the lack of visiting become an issue with my kids. It is very strange but often I think of my Dad and am content knowing that I love him and he is safe. My need to spend time with him has diminished from over a year ago when he first went into Sentry Hill.
We hung out with my father for an hour and a half and said our goodbyes. As we did an older lady approached us with a walker and asked if she could leave with us. And then she asked us if she were dreaming. I told her I wasn't dreaming so I suspected she wasn't either. Nathaniel and I walked back out into the rainy dark. The stubborn dark night had not given an inch since we had gone inside. Windy, wet, wet. I am not a proponant of so much rain and even less of snow. So I had that to be grateful for, I suppose.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
About Red Squirrels
Uneasy Finality
They come into my yard
and then into my house
tearing and ripping at night.
Awake, I am full of frustration.
They have found some crack
or boards sawn too short
much like an open door.
At day and only occasionally
I sit near the wood-stove
looking out the large picture window
toward the bird-feeder.
One or two will surely arrive.
At first sight of the spastic frenzy
my 22 is in my hand as I open the back door
and sneak out.
Quietly I come within perfect view.
Carefully, I place the red bush within the cross hairs
and pow! The last sound to fall upon
his ears strikes me with uneasy finality.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
February 4, 2010
I haven't seen my Dad since Christmas night. I think about him often, every few hours. On Christmas day, Sandra and the kids and I all went to visit him. We all sat in the big room that is octagonal with a high ceiling and punched a balloon back and forth to each other. My Father is remarkably agile for his age and condition. He dominated with the balloon punching.
I haven't visited with my Dad because I am emotionally exhausted. Driving over to see him is atleast a 2 hour endeavor. It's an 18 minute drive each way. I can never pop in and just say, "Hi Dad, just stopped by to see how your doing, gotta now." Although I have tried this it is just too confusing for him.
There have been so many things going on with the rest of my life I have put visiting him at the end of my list of priorities. I need to spend time with my kids. I was taking a lot of time off from work to visit which I cannot afford. In the evenings when I am at Sentry Hill visiting my father for a few hours I am not at home with my family.
My heart aches no matter which decision I choose.
With my oldest son off at college it has become completely clear that you become severed from your children. Nathaniel's college is an hour and a half ride from home. It is too far to drive for a casual visit. With my other two kids still at home I cherish all the remaining time I have before they too, head off into the world. I feel best after work to go home and look forward to sitting at the dinner table and being in the presence of my wife and kids. The completion of this ritual is usually 7-8pm, too late for me to visit my Dad.
I also enjoy visiting my Dad. The look on his face when he sees me is like no other. I love talking walks with him, reviewing the past and joking around with him.
It has given me a lot of peace to know that he is in a great place. Sentry Hill is very dignified, far and above his expectations and the staff is genuine.
The social worker, Sara, called me a few weeks ago to ask where I have been. I explained to her that although I love my Dad and pray for him often I cannot put as much energy into visiting him as I have in the past. I just don't have it.
My sister emailed me yesterday reminding me that our Dad won't be around long and that he asks where I am all the time.
There have been times in our past that my Father and I haven't seen each other for atleast a year and often months would pass even though we lived about a mile from each other. I think I have seen him more since he has been at Sentry Hill than I have in the past 20+ years. I am really grateful for this. When he was first admitted I had no idea what to expect. I didn't if he would be gone in a month, week or year. He has done very well.
I haven't visited with my Dad because I am emotionally exhausted. Driving over to see him is atleast a 2 hour endeavor. It's an 18 minute drive each way. I can never pop in and just say, "Hi Dad, just stopped by to see how your doing, gotta now." Although I have tried this it is just too confusing for him.
There have been so many things going on with the rest of my life I have put visiting him at the end of my list of priorities. I need to spend time with my kids. I was taking a lot of time off from work to visit which I cannot afford. In the evenings when I am at Sentry Hill visiting my father for a few hours I am not at home with my family.
My heart aches no matter which decision I choose.
With my oldest son off at college it has become completely clear that you become severed from your children. Nathaniel's college is an hour and a half ride from home. It is too far to drive for a casual visit. With my other two kids still at home I cherish all the remaining time I have before they too, head off into the world. I feel best after work to go home and look forward to sitting at the dinner table and being in the presence of my wife and kids. The completion of this ritual is usually 7-8pm, too late for me to visit my Dad.
I also enjoy visiting my Dad. The look on his face when he sees me is like no other. I love talking walks with him, reviewing the past and joking around with him.
It has given me a lot of peace to know that he is in a great place. Sentry Hill is very dignified, far and above his expectations and the staff is genuine.
The social worker, Sara, called me a few weeks ago to ask where I have been. I explained to her that although I love my Dad and pray for him often I cannot put as much energy into visiting him as I have in the past. I just don't have it.
My sister emailed me yesterday reminding me that our Dad won't be around long and that he asks where I am all the time.
There have been times in our past that my Father and I haven't seen each other for atleast a year and often months would pass even though we lived about a mile from each other. I think I have seen him more since he has been at Sentry Hill than I have in the past 20+ years. I am really grateful for this. When he was first admitted I had no idea what to expect. I didn't if he would be gone in a month, week or year. He has done very well.
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