Waves of Emotions

There are moments when I am easily distracted at work, the gym, or at a dinner when something clicks and reminds me of a thought, a reminder of a great memory of my father.  It hits like a wave coming at you when you least expect it.  At first it feels good like a rush going through your body, cold but refreshing, exciting yet on the edge.  Quickly though that fades, the wave hits and it seems loud but oddly quiet, risky but frightful, finite but everlasting, beautiful but suffocating.  All of these things happen when I think of dad.  All of them come rushing in and at times I lose control.  I have to run to the bathroom to let it out, or bite my lip until I can get somewhere I can breath and release.  Yesterday it was in my office, when I quietly closed my door.  Tonight, its in my living room.  This is all very strange to me and not something I am use to.  Those who know me well I am a very private person and have been taught to hide emotion so its moments like these I feel the most vulnerable.  To even put my fathers story and my emotions out on a blog, I never would have thought I would ever be so open.

I realize it doesn't take a family who has memory lapses for a person to relate to how I feel.  We all have emotions that come through like a tsunami that crashes at the core and god knows a women's hormones doesn't help with the roller-coaster we are already feeling.  It's hard sometimes to understand why there are moments when they hit the most.  Today, I booked my flight to Tucson to see my dad with my brother and as I look forward to the trip, I know I will be disappointed when I get there.  I know, its easier to deal with things when you are from afar.  It's easy to pretend that things are okay, that life moves on and the next day approaches.  It's only during a phone call that I am reminded, but its not as surreal as being faced in front of what is really going on.

I am excited to see my dad and hang out with my brother.  I can't wait for us to be together in one house, cooking, drinking, laughing, listening to my dads favorite tunes he grew up with.  I know however it's a ticking clock, a bomb that keeps lighting but doesn't quite hit the dynamite.  I know I will find out more about this disease when I land and how its progressed.  I will smile and pretend that everything is okay so that dad doesn't feel judged, confused or that he has lost his position in the ranking of this family.  I will collect my information, calculate the loss, total my damages and come back home with ideas on next steps.  This is a process I am getting way too good at. So as that wave approaches and I am sitting in a meeting, at the gym or looking out at a beautiful city over dinner, I will not hold my breath but hope that I will survive the water that is about to crash.  I accept what it brings and hope that I have the strength to float back to the surface, holding on, waiting for the next one to hit, knowing that I have prepared to survive this.  I must admit however, at times, the wave does knock me down, catches me at my best, pulls me underwater where I am almost out of breath, but somehow when I least expect it, I always find a way to pull myself back up to the surface looking back at the wave that has now rolled softly onto the shore.

Premature Transitions

When I was little my father use to have to tuck me in at night, lay beside me and read.  If by chance he moved while I was sleeping, I would grab his arm and make him stay till I knew I was safe, fast asleep and dreaming.  He would oblige, lay his head by mine and run his fingers through my hair.  Sometimes I would ask him to hum a lullaby so I could hear his voice as I started to drift asleep.  He would whistle our favorites like the Beatles, the Doors or even Cat Stevens.  The gentle hum, even though not always in tune, would reassure me he was there, close by, and that I was not alone in the dark.

As an adult, I no longer have the need to have my father beside me helping me through the night, but its him that needs me. It's a weird transition to become the adult to your own parent.  It's a change in dynamic that isn't offered but that must be taken in order to keep everything in check, together and in peace.  As weird as it felt to switch roles, I welcomed it.  I instinctively knew this was my role to take on almost like a mother does with their newborn child.  There is not a thought, no hesitation, no second guessing, you just "do".  We switch roles as if it was a natural progression in life.  We don't discuss it, we don't signify it, we just move forward in the new roles we have been given.

I call to check in, make sure he has made it home and keeps up with his weekly errands.  I call the doctor when he makes a visit to make sure he showed up and to get the "real" answers to the progress or lack there of to his health and memory.  I ask him about his medication, has he filled his prescriptions and is he getting enough vitamins.  I lecture him on reading and keeping his mind busy, exercising regularly and socializing a bit more with the neighbors.  I encourage him to take on new projects, set goals for the week and to not forget to call me once he has landed and gotten home safely.  I take note of times he has been late, not remembered to call, hasn't eaten the vegetables he should or the smoking habit he quit but decided to pick up again.  At 32, I had no idea this responsibility would be handed to me.  I always thought I would nurture and look after my own children before one of my parents.

This is what I do know though,  I am strong and I have found the core of what it means to be born a woman.  I was built to handle this and anything else that might come up.  They say you are only dealt with what you can handle and with that saying I take grace knowing its a challenge I accept.  I have put my faith in not only myself but the fact that my father needs me.  Not just my love, he has that unconditionally, but the nurturing and humility that I can provide in moments of despair and need and as a woman I now know we were built for moments like these.  Whether its our children, our parents, our friends or strangers who need us, as women we are differentiated in this aspect.  Things happen knowingly, you have to believe that there are lessons to learn and things to grow from when they are presented.

At night, when I have too much on my mind and I can't sleep, I turn on the music he would play for us.  The gentle sounds of something familiar makes me relax and puts me in a place I remember well.  A place that shaped who I am and who I am still shaping to be.  It takes me back to my dad lying beside me, humming as best he could to the sounds of the past, the past I envisioned for him which is the past I now recall.  It's my way of sleeping peacefully and reassuring myself that I am still the child within.

A Convo Through Mail

Dad - This picture actually cracks me up.  Last year a few of us went to a Kentucky Derby party (hence the crazy hat).  Later we ended up leaving the party to head to another bar.  We ended up walking by a Bentley dealership and there was a private party happening.  We just walked on in like we belonged there.  Genius!  They had amazing cars on display and I couldn't help but have my calendar girl moment on a beautiful car!

Love you,

Destiny xxoo

Calling on a Memory

One of my most happiest moments during the day is talking to my father on the phone.  I look forward to hearing how his day has been and what he has been up to during his retired life.  It's also secretly a way for me to check in on him being miles and miles away.  My dad continues to still make me laugh and his sense of humor has always been witty but cynical.  When I was a child, he would find ways to make me smile.  Whether it was dancing with me to the Beatles in the living room or surprising me with a puppy on Christmas day, dad knew how to make his little girl happy.

When I talked to him this morning, coffee in hand, he had me laughing so hard I was tearing.  To hear him tell me how hard the past two weeks have been during his retired life makes me realize how long he has been out of the workforce.  His newly installed tv stopped working in one day, his car that he has brought to the mechanic over a dozen times still continues to have the same problem, it actually snowed in Tucson, and he has gained 8 pounds even though his appetite is down to one meal a day!  You would have thought his whole life came crashing down.  He was so exhausted to relive the stories I couldn't help but laugh.  I briefly mentioned the postcard I had sent to see if he received it, but he had not.  I was curious to see what he thought of Shane's stained sweatshirt!  I left that conversation feeling good, happy, confidant that he could retell his stories of the past few weeks so clearly, so vividly, I was happier when I got off the phone then when I called and heard his voice in the first place.

I called him back tonight to see if he received the postcard I sent him knowing the mail had at this point been delivered for the day.  Unfortunately, he didn't remember talking to me about postcards or recall a few other topics we discussed.  My heart sunk and my previous thoughts that my father today had made progress, quickly disappeared.  This shouldn't be a surprise but yet it continues to surprise me.  This is the norm as I continue to age and as my father's memories, whether long or short term, fade. I can pretend that this doesn't exist, but moments like these remind me what is reality.  I escape by writing and by wishing time stands still, but its silly thoughts like these that allow me to hide from my own self-doubt.  In these moments, I think back and remember the positives of these conversations.  I fall asleep smiling for the things he does remember and the laughs he continues to get out of me.  This is what makes me keep smiling, sleep soundly and constantly look forward to the next call to hear his voice and his troubles as a retired man in sunny Arizona.

A Convo Through Mail

Dad - Thought you would enjoy this picture of Shane and me.  This is when I went to visit him in the Poconos this past September.  We had so much fun building bonfires, drinking, cooking, hiking, swimming and just hanging out.  Weather was perfect and the cabin was great.  Shane had a hard time keeping the wine in his mouth ;)  I am sure, as your son, this doesn't surprise you!

Love you,

Des xxoo

A Convo Through Mail

Dad - This is a picture from the wedding I was just at in the Dominican Republic.  I had a wonderful time and you cannot believe the different traditions they have out there.  Their weddings go till 6 am, can you believe that!  The local wedding was beautiful and it reminded me of vacations you use to take us on as kids.  I miss you and can't wait to visit you soon!  I think about you everyday.

Love you,

XXOO

Des

ps, a huge shout out to Moo.com for making these beautiful postcards and being very customer friendly and priced well.  They do postcards to business cards and much more, check them out!

Sleepless Thoughts

There are nights that I come home and just fall asleep and there are nights that I just can't shut an eye.  Sometimes its because of work, other times its because of thoughts running through my head. Tonight, I know its because of "what if's".  We all have baggage, it's life's way of making sure we are not too comfortable in where we are in its plan.  It's hard at times to believe that we are thrown curve balls to ensure that we are ready for a battle.  We certainly don't ask for it, nor do we pretend to accept what we are given.  We have no choice but to take on what has been destined.

I know that I am tough and that life has given me plenty of things to be thankful for and happy about so I know with that strength I can move mountains even though at times I feel like I can barely climb a hill.  I can't help however to think about the "what if's" that might come with Alzheimer's in my life.  Will I wake up one day and my father not remember me?  Will I ask where he is and he cannot tell me knowing I am States away?  Can he remember my number if he falls, hurts himself and can't figure out who to call?  You can imagine the worry and weight one must feel when these thoughts are all that float by in moments of silence.  I always wondered why I was never a morning person, but I truly believe I was meant to steal the night in order to process life's questions.  Sometimes, it's the quiet stillness of the dark that allows me to process its very nature.

There is no cure to figure out what's in store for tomorrow or the next, but I would like to think I have figured it out at least temporarily.  There is plan A, plan B, plan C and in case those don't work, I have maps to draw additional exit plans.  There are guards and machines, artillery and smoke, alarms and armor, everything I might need in my back pocket.  In my mind I have diverted every possible scenario, though I don't know when or where they may take place.  I am ready to face the fight.

I have great siblings (the best) and a wonderful family so the night doesn't keep me up too late, but it's deceptive disease does penetrate through my thoughts and so it's the peace of mind that I have calculated each "what if" scenario that I can casually drift asleep at some point through the night.  Dreaming of better days for my father and the prolonged "what if" scenarios in the hope that they are not needed for one more day.