They who goFeel not the pain of parting; it is they
Who stay behind that suffer.
~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Daddy has ended up in a nursing home after all. He had fallen again and was hospitalized for four days, then sent to a local nursing home for rehabilitation. He has been there for two months now, and will soon become a permanent resident there.
Sigh.
This is where he belongs. He is getting very good care. He is kept clean and no one yells at him when he forgets things. He gets tons of stimulation all day long, from physical and occupational therapy to watching the business of this small world buzz around him. He interacts with people all day long, be they other patients or the wonderful people who work there. He is popular; he has friends; everyone loves him.
So why do we cry? We cry for the Daddy we have lost. The man who was the little league coach. The man who taught us to drive. The man who took us on vacations and bought us boats. The man who disciplined us without ever raising his voice (much less his hand) to us. The man who spent countless hours amusing children by telling silly jokes, performing magic tricks, impersonating TV characters, and making funny faces. The man who taught us, by his example, what kind of people to be.
My brother and I cried together last weekend. We cried a river of tears, and it wasn't nearly enough to release the pain inside us. Our father has always been the glue that held us together. He has always been strong in a quiet, gentle sort of way.
Now it feels as if we are standing on the shore, watching Daddy sail off all alone, drifting further and further away from us every day. So maybe now all we can do is stand together on the shore, holding hands, and giving each other the strength and love we need to get by...the strength and love we learned from Daddy.
I love you, Daddy. And I love you, too, Brother.
Sigh.
This is where he belongs. He is getting very good care. He is kept clean and no one yells at him when he forgets things. He gets tons of stimulation all day long, from physical and occupational therapy to watching the business of this small world buzz around him. He interacts with people all day long, be they other patients or the wonderful people who work there. He is popular; he has friends; everyone loves him.
So why do we cry? We cry for the Daddy we have lost. The man who was the little league coach. The man who taught us to drive. The man who took us on vacations and bought us boats. The man who disciplined us without ever raising his voice (much less his hand) to us. The man who spent countless hours amusing children by telling silly jokes, performing magic tricks, impersonating TV characters, and making funny faces. The man who taught us, by his example, what kind of people to be.
My brother and I cried together last weekend. We cried a river of tears, and it wasn't nearly enough to release the pain inside us. Our father has always been the glue that held us together. He has always been strong in a quiet, gentle sort of way.
Now it feels as if we are standing on the shore, watching Daddy sail off all alone, drifting further and further away from us every day. So maybe now all we can do is stand together on the shore, holding hands, and giving each other the strength and love we need to get by...the strength and love we learned from Daddy.
I love you, Daddy. And I love you, too, Brother.
1 comment:
I stumbled upon your blog while looking for my old blog. I'm a CNA working in an Alzheimer's and Dementia unit.
Losing someone (Especially someone so close to you) to this disease is absolutely heartbreaking... because your father is still physically there to remind you of who he used to be.
But I don't know what I would do if I didn't have my patients. They are closer to me than my family, and although they don't speak clearly (and some don't even speak english) or they get confused easily... working with them has truely changed my life.
I'm so very sorry about your father. But I'm positive he still loves you very much, even if he can't always say it in so many words.
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