Mourning

The deep pain that is felt at the death of every friendly soul

arises from the feeling that there is in every individual

something which is inexpressible, peculiar to him alone,

and is, therefore,

absolutely and irretrievably lost.

~Arthur Schopenhauer

Grief and mourning are two different things. Grief is the immediate emotional reaction to the death of a loved one; mourning is the continuing pain that goes on far longer.

I have passed through the grief part, and now I mourn. I mourn every day for my father. I mourn for the wonderful Daddy that I have lost. I lost him first to Alzheimer's, and now I have lost him to death. How much loss can a person carry? I know that this is too much for me. I would give my own life to be able to see him one more time, to tell him once more how much I love him. The emptiness that his death has left in my heart and in my life is a black hole of pain.

We have endured Easter and survived his 89th birthday without him. Mom made it through their 64th wedding anniversary. Now we have to face Father's Day next Sunday, and my soul is bleeding out already.

Updated Facts & Figures

With Alzheimer’s, it is not just those with

the disease who suffer. It’s also their

caregivers.

• In 2010, 14.9 million family and friends provided

17 billion hours of unpaid care to those with

Alzheimer’s and other dementias.

• The economic value of the unpaid care provided to

those with Alzheimer’s and other dementias

totaled $202.6 billion in 2010.

• More than 60 percent of Alzheimer’s and dementia

caregivers rate the emotional stress of caregiving

as high or very high; one-third report symptoms of

depression.

Alzheimer’s is not just memory loss.

Alzheimer’s kills.

• Alzheimer’s disease is the 6th leading cause of

death in the United States and the 5th leading

cause of death for those aged 65 and older.

• Alzheimer’s is the only cause of death among the

top 10 in America without a way to prevent, cure,

or even slow its progression.

• Deaths from Alzheimer’s increased 66 percent

between 2000 and 2008, while deaths from other

major diseases, including the number one cause

of death (heart disease), decreased.

**Alzheimer's Association, 2011

Gone

Daddy died at 9:25 last night.

Updated Facts & Figures

This article, from USA Today, is a wealth of knowledge. It is also terrifying, shocking, and depressing. Sadly, I also found it unsurprising.

http://www.usatoday.com/yourlife/health/medical/alzheimers/2011-03-15-alznumbers15_ST_N.htm

Walter's Willie

Wee Willie Winkie rins through the toon,

Up stairs an' doon stairs in his nicht-gown,

Tirlin' at the window, crying at the lock

~William Miller

There is a resident at Daddy's nursing home named Walter. Walter is a very little old man, and looks astonishingly like the man from "Monopoly". He spends most of his time curled up quietly in his wheelchair, bothering no one.

That is, until one day while I was visiting Daddy I heard Walter muttering to himself. I happened to glance over, and Walter was sitting there with his pants completely down! I damn near died. Thankfully the nurse saw him, came over and yanked his pants back up, admonishing him NOT to do do it again. Well, she had no sooner turned her back than YANK! Walter had his pants down. She came back over and YANK! pulled them back up again. Once again, she turned away and YANK! Walter's pants were around his ankles. YANK! The nurse pulls them up. YANK! Walter pulls them down.

This went on for fully 15 minutes, until the nurse finally moved poor Walter out of the sitting room and into his own room, where presumably he could be happily naked. I was greatly relieved, to say the least. Any more of Walter's willie peeping out at me and I think I may have gone blind.

Apparently this is Walter's "thing" (no pun intended) because others in the family have been treated to the same vision as me. It's darkly funny, of course, but imagine how the poor man would feel if he were aware of what he was doing. Unless he used to be a flasher..........

Suggested Reading

"I don't understand a word I'm thinking"
~Frances Nora O'Connor, Ph.D.

I have recently finished a book that I think would interest anyone who is reading this blog. It is titled "Still Alice" and is written by Lisa Genova. It is a novel that tells the story of a 50 year old female Harvard professor who is diagnosed with Early Onset Alzheimer's Disease. It is beautiful, lyrical, heartwarming, and ultimately hopeful and inspirational. I can not recommend it highly enough.

Surviving the Holidays

“The best of all gifts around any Christmas tree

is the presence of a happy family

all wrapped up in each other” ~Burton Hills

Yeah, right, Burton. We had no Christmas tree, and the family sure as hell wasn't happy. We WERE all wrapped up in Daddy, though. Does that count as a merry Christmas?

Sigh. We tried. We really did. We all put on our game faces and muddled through the holiday season. It was fairly dreadful, although not quite as suicide-inducing as I had feared.

Thanksgiving was easier than I had hoped for; Christmas Day was as well. I found the preparations for both; the anticipation, the second-guessing, the angst was nearly unbearable. In each case I was coping with my own emotions as well as those of my mother and the rest of the family. In the end, we tried to do some things the same and some things differently. As attempts go, it was a good damn try by all concerned. What was missing was Daddy -- both physically, since he couldn't come home, and in all other ways since he has no awareness of special days; if he had he wouldn't be able to remember.

Each of us dealt with it on our own level. I made Daddy a crocheted blanket for his bed. He loved it when he saw it, then promptly forgot where it had come from. I'm OK with that. I made it to keep him warm, and to warm my own heart by knowing it would cover him every night. The other gave him presents he could use and enjoy -- candy & treats, warm clothing, and so on.

At dinner, while saying Grace, my youngest brother mentioned how sad he was that Daddy wasn't there, but how happy he was that our great-nephew was with us. That truly summed up how I felt, too. I am so very, very sad that Daddy -- the Daddy I always knew, loved, and looked up to -- is not with us any more; instead we have this small, frail, forgetful old man who often doesn't recognize our faces. The Ying to that Yang is this beautiful baby boy, Daddy's great grandson, who is not yet two years old; he is new life and hope. Maybe the baby really IS the true meaning of Christmas.