Daddy would cry—a sudden burst of warm tears trickling down his cheek because he didn’t know what was happening to him, only that something was terribly wrong. He couldn’t comprehend the pain and the frustration he felt; living in a house and with a wife he didn’t recognize.
So, I loved him—and just as importantly, I forgave him. I forgave him for becoming ill, for suffering from something that I could neither fix nor cure. And I forgave myself for the feelings of resentment I held toward my father for succumbing to Alzheimer’s. I forgave myself for having to put Daddy in a facility where he would get the care that he needed—the care I could no longer manage. I forgave myself for having to leave him there after every visit.
Prepare.
Both my parents have been gone for almost seven years now (Mom died in June of the same year). I still miss them both terribly and I’m sure I always will. I miss my mother’s strength, her fierce love, and dedication. If asked, I’d have to say what I miss most about my dad is our long talks—we’d converse for hours at a time—and his booming laughter. I long to catch him up on what I’ve been doing with my life; to share with him my experiences as an artist and a writer, to show him my latest creation. I long to tell him about my muse; the times when she deserts me, leaving me void of all creativity, only to return in full force when I need her the most.
Through this ordeal, I discovered that knowing who you’re not is just as important as knowing who you are, and that letting go of guilt and feelings of failure is learned behavior. Even after having done all that I could do for my father, I was still plagued with the notion of not having done enough. It’s often said that humans are shaped by the amount of suffering they endure. While this may not be a popular concept, I believe it is true—at least it was for me. Prayer and faith in God sustained me through this difficult period in my life, and in spite of the pain, I discovered a strength I never knew I possessed. Most importantly, I learned that my only requirements were to be my father’s daughter, not his savior—and to love him, not to heal him.
Part 1│(Part 2)
