One thing about my Dad that has meant so much to me in recent years is the valiant and enduring way he cared for my Mom in her last years, as she suffered with dementia. I think it has to be one of the most difficult diseases for caretakers to deal with. Besides the concern for their safety and the daily challenges of caring for their every need, there is the heartbreak of watching them slip away from you little by little into another world. Answering the same questions over and over again, guiding them once again through the most menial tasks can be exhausting for even the most patient among us.
Even while Mom was in a nursing facility recovering from a broken hip, Dad was usually there several hours a day to help her with every meal and often stayed into the evening to tuck her into bed. Mom always knew who he was but she didn't remember him being there. She was restless in the night and often pedaled her wheelchair or even walked up to the nurses station saying "I can't find my husband."
While in the nursing facility she often said "I want to go home." She loved her home and even in her dementia she was drawn to its comfort and familiarity. She recovered from the broken hip well enough to come home in a few months and she was walking independently around the house. That amazing feat was a testament to both her determination and the care and encouragement that Dad provided.
During one of her hospitalizations I sat by her bed while Dad went home to rest for awhile. She was restless and agitated, pulling on her bedding and gown for much of the time, a response to being in an unfamiliar environment. When Dad got back he pulled up a chair on the other side of the bed, took her hand and started talking gently to her. Her eyes fixed solidly on his and she quieted right down. Then she realized I was still on the other side of the bed and she reached out her hand for me. She kept shifting her gaze between the two of us. It was if she somehow found her grounding in reality through our physical connection and it brought her peace. It was such a profound and tender moment to see the power of the human connection and the strength of the bond between Mom and Dad.
As Dad and I sat on the back porch waiting to go the funeral home for Mom's services, he said, "I did the best I could." I suppose in dealing with a disease such as dementia, its hard to feel that enough is enough, there's always more that one could do.
But it's clearly evident Dad that your love, endurance and drive remained strong to the end, even in your fatigue. I am forever grateful that you were able to walk with her as you did through that dark valley.
