Last Dance

It was January 31, 2011. This was a special day because it was my dad’s 74th birthday. My daughter and I pulled up in front of the nursing home. It was a cold brisk winter day, but Lake Crossing was warm and inviting with its beautiful trees and white wooden rocking chairs on the front porch. As we walked inside, everybody was busily getting ready for the afternoon’s festivities as today they would be celebrating all of the birthdays for the month of January.



We found my dad in his room sitting on his bed dressed nicely in dress slacks and a polo shirt. I took a moment to reflect on how the Alzheimer’s had aged him, yet it had made him child like. He looked up and said, “Hey, look who’s here!” I was blessed that he still recognized my daughter and me.

Lady J ran to his arms and they shared a bear hug. “Happy Birthday, Grandpa!” she exclaimed. I followed with a hug of my own. “Look dad, I brought your dancing shoes,” I said. He looked at them puzzled, but put them on. Lady J took him by the hand and led him gently to the recreation room where the other residents and staff were gathered for the birthday celebration.


A wide circle had been cleared in the middle of the room. I led my dad to the center of all the people watching. I tenderly placed his left hand at my waist, and placed my left hand upon his shoulder, and then I took his right hand in mine. The CD I had chosen began to play. The song was “Lollipop, Lollipop” and the tempo was strong yet moderate. At first my dad looked at me and said, “I don’t know what to do, “so I started to lead.

I started with two side steps, then a triple step back. Within moments there was a sparkle in my dad’s eyes and he began to lead. There were spins, turns, and slides. He didn’t miss a beat, but the best part was the smile on his face. When the song finished we did a big spin out for a grand finale and everyone clapped and cheered.


Breathless, I hugged my dad. Lady J jumped up and down with joy from watching the dance with her mom and her grandpa. After the celebration, she got to dance with her grandpa in his room. The sparkle remained in his eyes even though he said little the rest of the day. That was the last time I danced with my dad. He passed away on April 10, 2011, but the memory of that day will live with me forever.

Nuclear Disaster

Recently we have had a horrific disaster across the Pacific in Japan. There has been a huge earthquake and tsunami creating massive destruction. Included in that destruction is damage to two nuclear plants. As I have read the information about the nuclear plants, I can't help but know that my dad would have known very much what needs to be done in this situation to prevent a serious nuclear disaster.
I have had the opportunity to read much of his history in the nuclear industry, both in the Navy and in the civil sector. My dad served under Admiral Rickover, who was considered the Admiral of the "Nuclear Navy". My dad was a key person in building four air craft carriers, including being the chief engineer of the Enterprise. He also was involved in the conversion of the Bainbridge, the first nuclear frigate and designed the seal, and the Nautilus, the first nuclear submarine. Dad was often referred to as "Mini Rickover", as he was third in command. Although his professional life often took a toll on his family and personal life, he took his job seriously and did his job with great pride. His officer reviews always reflected that sense of integrity and workmanship.
Unfortunately, due to the Alzheimer's, I feel my dad has his own nuclear disaster going on within himself. For years because of his brilliant mind, he was able to hide it from the public view. However deep inside his brain, changes were taking place uncontrolled. Sometimes they have problems at the nursing home because dad thinks he is still in the Navy, or because he thinks "people aren't doing their job". I am so grateful for loving and understanding staff who take the time to talk to him and comfort him until he feels safe again.
I am reminded of a story told by Admiral Rickover,
In ancient times a philosopher came to a city. He was determined to save its inhabitants from sin and wickedness. Night and day he walked the streets and haunted the marketplaces. He preached against greed and envy, against falsehood and indifference. At first the people listened and smiled. Later they turned away; he no longer amused them. Finally, a child moved by compassion asked, "Why do you go on? Do you not see it is hopeless?"
The man answered, "In the beginning, I thought I could change men. If I still shout, it is to prevent men from changing me."
I am sure that is why my dad shouts. It is as though part of him is shouting to the Alzheimer's, "HEY, STOP CHANGING ME!!"

Saying Goodbye

In some ways Alzheimer's can be a blessing. Although everyday I curse the disease I am so grateful for the time I have with my dad because I know I am not ready to say goodbye. I feel as though I am saying goodbye one little piece at a time. As his memory has diminished, I have tried to gather and record as much as I possibly can so it will not be lost forever. My dad is so different now compared to the man I grew up with as a child. He was a Naval Officer, proud, stern and demanding. We grew up with statements such as, "What's the sense of doing something if you are not going to do it right?" and "If you want something, you gotta work for it!" Although I did many, many things with my dad, compliments were very hard to come by. I grew up believing my dad was perfect and infalable. Now he is childlike as my daughter takes him by the hand and leads him to where he needs to go. His eyes light up when he sees lady J and me when we go to see him at the nursing home and I am grateful each time that he still remembers us. Sometimes he visits with us and dances and sings with us. Other times he sleeps while we read to him or we just enjoy the comfort of being with each other. It is a comfort to know that he doesn't remember how painfully my mom died, yet he remembers her beauty and he remembers dancing with her. It is a comfort to know that he doesn't remember all the petty fights we had when I was growing up, especially as a stupid teenager. It is a comfort to know that he only knows my sister in a loving manner after years of animosity. Yes, everyday I grieve a little more as my dad slips away, but everyday there is a little more acceptance. For now, I cherish every moment in time with him as if it may be the last. I love him so very much.

Perspective

A couple years ago I had the privilege to listen to a good friend of mine give a speech on perspective. Now when I feel like things are spiraling down and I am going into a depression I just think of the word perspective and realize;

1. Things could be worse.
2. I have been through much worse.
4. Other people have been through worse.
5. Later on this may not look so bad.
6. I will get through this, don't give up.
7. There may be a different way to look at things.

Last week I was really missing my mom. My heart ached as I yearned for her companionship. I also felt guilt as it has become necessary for me to assume some of her responsibilities.

The other day my dad received some paperwork from his Navy retirement stating that he needed to list his beneficiaries. He sat in his chair and read the paper over and over again, obviously bothered by the words he saw there. Finally he spoke up and asked me, "What happened to my wife? I don't think I divorced her."

I turned to him and gently said, "Dad, Mom died." I could tell part of him was relieved and part of him very disturbed. He knew that he had loved his sweetheart for 50 years. After a brief moment he asked, "How long ago did she pass away?" "June 29th", I told him.

From across the room I could see him wipe the tears from his eyes as I tried to offer my words of comfort. At that moment I became aware of how difficult it must have been for him to realize he had forgotten my mom's passing and it put my own grieving into perspective.

Missing Mom

Today is just one of those days where I have just really missed my mom. So many times something will happen and I think, "I can't wait to call mom and tell her that!" and remember I can't do that anymore. I lived in Las Vegas, NV for over 25 years and at the beginning of this year I felt impressed to move here to Georgia to be closer to my parents. The planned move was to be in July mostly because it would be the best break for Lady J and school.

In April my dad went to a town close by to get gas cap. It took 12 hours to find him. Shortly after that my parents went up to their time share in Northern Georgia and my mom called and said my dad was severely disoriented. I could also tell that my mom had been drinking.

Usually when my dad is having these problems so abruptly it means he has a urinary tract infection. He had bladder cancer in 1997 and although he had a successful bladder reconstruction and is in complete remission, he is in stage 3 kidney failure. I urged my mom to return home and have dad go into the hospital.

A couple of days later my mom went into the hospital herself. This created a sense of urgency for my move. On May 19th my daughter and I and the cat boarded a plane and flew here to Georgia while my best friend and my church packed up my house and shipped my belongings here.

One month later my mom passed away. Her stomach had been hurting so she had been taking Tylenol. Unfortunately the Tylenol built up in her liver to toxic levels and because her liver was so damaged her poor worn out body finally gave up.

My mom was more than a mother, she was also my best friend. I remember once as a teenager opening up her closet and realizing she had very few clothes, yet my sister and I always had new dresses for school each year, prom dresses, choir dresses, orchestra dresses, new pajamas each Christmas all hand made and other brand new school clothes we needed. It was my mom who taught me to sew and to cook and who gave me my first start in business when I would inventory the fabric store she worked in.

I always remember our home being neat and clean, but most of all I remember her laughter. My dad was a military man to the core and he was strict, but my mom was there to soften things. Her warm smile could make any day better and a joke could turn any bitter moment into joy. Oh, she was far from perfect! I learned right away if I missed the bus for school, NEVER wake her up for a ride!! It was safer to ride my bike the five miles to school!

I have moved into my parents home in order to take care of my dad, so everything around me reminds me of her. She decorated this home so beautifully and I feel guilty for having my belongings all over the place in spite of the necessity of it all. I am amazed at how much I am like her, yet I am painfully aware at how much I will never be as talented as she was. My heart aches for more time to tell her how much I love her and that I understand now the great challenges she was facing in her life. I pray that she left this earth knowing how much I loved her.

Fly Fishing and Bubble Gum in Wal-Mart

I went to Wal-Mart with my dad(who has alzheimer's) and my daughter(who has aspergers and bipolar) today. Mind you this is no easy task, ever! It is like going with two 2 year olds, except one is 8 and one is 72. As soon as we enter the store they argue over who is going to push the cart. I try to appease my daughter and tell her she and i can hold hands while Grandpa pushes the cart. She tells me that he doesn't push the cart as well as she does. I tell her that it is not polite to say something like that and our journey begins as I direct them both to sporting goods.

I have promised my daughter bubble gum if we can get through the store without a temper tantrum. To some this may seem a bribe, but given the challenges she has had lately, I feel this is quite the reward. Wal-Mart is a huge challenge for her on any day. There is so much stimulation, with all of the lights, and colors and smells, and the noise from the people. The noise from all of the people and the intercom and the carts is the worst thing of all. For her, the noise is quite painful and on some trips I have brought earplugs, however I need to find a pair that actually stay in her ears so I don't have to stop every 10 feet to replace them.

Once in sporting goods I am trying to find tennis balls but my dad has found the fishing rods. Quickly he has been swept away to a time in our lives when he and I used to fish all the time. I mention to him that I never did learn to fly fish. I only fished by casting and watching the bobber. That of course sets him on a quest to find a fly fishing rod. I regret my comment and I am grateful that none of the rods there are fly fishing rods. I tell him that he might have to go to a bigger sporting goods store. In the meantime, my daughter has spotted at least four fishing poles, the live worms, the rubber worms, and a life vest and totally irritated my dad at least twice. Finally I find the tennis balls and move on to my next quest, shoelaces for said little girl.

The trek across Wal-Mart seems to take longer than the pioneers did across the country. My dad is tired because it is near the end of the day, and of course the toy department is between sporting goods and the shoe department. I know I had to tell my daughter to "Come On!" at every single aisle, and that of course irritated my dad some more. Just once I would like to get through Wal-Mart without my daughter thinking her last name is Da**it (Lady J Da**it, Come On!!!) (Lady J, Da**it, Get Over here !) I owe the quarter jar a lot when I get out of Wal-Mart!!

After what seems forever and a long decisive process and a desperate pleading from me to "Please just pick one!", we get the shoelaces and head to the checkout. I hate the checkout line!! This is where the battle Royale begins. My dad and my daughter usually fight over who is going to unload the grocery cart, while I try to keep both of them happy and everyone looks at us like we are all nuts!! I help my dad pay for the groceries and help my daughter pay for her gum. On the way home I relish the silence as my daughter chews her gum and my dad falls asleep knowing we got through one more trip through Wal-mart. WOW!! I didn't even have to say Da**it this time!!