Alzheimer’s, A Thousand Good Bye’s

           Each day, sometimes hour, there’s a new realization, a deeper understanding of this most egregious disease. Alzheimer’s is a slow and unpredictable demise of the afflicted and simply the most despicable type of torture ever devised by nature. No man could think up any method more emotionally or physically debilitating.

          Each day is a new good bye. And yet there he is, dad, sitting there, starring back at me. Sometimes he stares at me with a smile, Sometimes it’s as blank as night. I never know if there will be a dawn. Sometimes he speaks fluently, if only for a short sentence. Then it’s back to mumbling, fidgeting with is hands. He attempts to stand, only to wonder why. A customer needs help, a meeting needs to be attended, a car needs to be washed and readied for the customer to pick-up. But that was fifteen years ago.

          Time no longer matters. There’s no longer a difference between dawn or dusk, between Sunday or any day. It’s just today, it’s just right now, and it’s just never going to be the same. As his personality slowly vanishes, the reality of his mortality increasingly develops. After all. He is my hero, my mentor, that bigger than life guy I still remember from when I was a kid.

          And then there’s the dilemma of the end. I know what that means, for there’s only one end to Alzheimer’s. Except with Alzheimer’s there’s more than one death. I want so much for my father’s suffering to end. But that would mean a new suffering would begin, but this time it would be my mother who suffers. The suffering of grief.

          Grief, that despicable yet emotionally necessary process of healing. There’s no time limit on grief, and Alzheimer’s, that thousand different ways and days of saying goodbye grinds out every drop of emotional fortitude. This is grieving in advance, preparing for grieving post. It’s going to happen, my father’s death, I’ll miss dad, and I’ll be happy for dad, while hurting for mom.

          I thank God for his grace that allows me the strength to deal with the ever changing and challenging emotional and psychological drain this disease affects. I am thankful for my training in chaplaincy and religious study to help me, and hopefully my family, through this most difficult time. And to help us through the difficult time that is most certainly yet to come.

          I’ll never be sure when dad will leave us for good, I do know that he will leave us before he dies. There’s so much to say, ………. That will never be said.

by David E. Gonzales

“In his great love,

the God of all consolation gave us the gift of life.

May he bless you with faith,

in the resurrection of his Son,

and with the hope of rising to new life.”

Amen-

From the “Shorter Book of Blessings”