Today was my fathers 80th birthday. Those of us that live here in Arizona, came to celebrate it with him. Cathy, Barry and Christina were there as well as Brad, Lael and kids and Chelsee and
Ben. Mom wanted to make sure to mark the event with family, pictures and of course his favorite dessert...Cherry Cheesecake. Now that he seemed to remember! My Dad is in the final stages of Alzheimers and this disease is nothing like what they show in the movies. His words are gone except on a few rare moments when he can respond with a correct yes or no. Even then, I think we just get lucky. For me, the best moment is always when I come to visit and he looks at me and in just a few seconds begins to smile. This is always followed by a warm hug and a kiss. His brain cannot remember my name or that I am his daughter but his heart remembers...I am certain of it.
So with my blessing of memory I would like to share with you who my father was to me. He was big and strong and always carried me to my bed when I had fallen asleep in the car after we had all gone to the drive-in movies in Emmett Idaho. I was always just awake enough to be aware that he was doing this for me. It still warms my heart to think about it. He was handsome. I was always proud of the way my Dad took care of himself. He struggled to provide but never stopped trying and Mom always made it stretch enough. My mom use to say that a woman can shovel more out the back door with a spoon than a man can bring in the front door with a shovel. Mom was always careful with her spoon. My Dad loved me and I knew it. I use to think that Dad called me specifically everyday to tell me he loved me. Now I realize I probably just answered the phone a lot. But it made a difference in my self image. Fathers have no idea the influence they can have on their daughters self worth. If she feels loved and accepted by him, they will not go try to find approval in the wrong place with the wrong boy. His greatest lesson to me was love. Dad and I chose different religious paths. Regardless of that difference he never discouraged me from my activity in mine. It was not until I was in my adult years and a parent myself, that I realized what his actions meant. He loved me enough to let me choose, regardless of our difference. That took a lot of unconditional love and I will always be grateful for his example and tolerance.
So Dad, here's to you and our memories of the heart.
I love you
Christi
Grandpa was always filled with love, and now it is amazing how that love is all that remains. He wrote me a note, when he still could, that said, "I don't remember all the wonderful memories that we had, but I remember that I love you, and somehow that is enough".
ReplyDeleteWhen Laura, Anna, Luke and I walked into Dad's cottage last July the first thing he said was, "I'll be damned, I'll be damned". It's funny that with all the thousands of words in his repertoire, it was the washing machine language that stuck. In a strange sort of way, those expletives, along with a good Italian style hug, connected me to the man I once knew. And 'I'll be damned' if I don't miss and love him like crazy. So Dad, in the hope that the cosmic cyberspace stars will align and send this to the 'memory of your heart', just know that I wish you a Happy 80th birthday and that I love you!!! Oh and tell Mom that in case those cyberspace stars don't cooperate, she can be my proxy for that wish and hug until i get there this summer.
ReplyDeleteI remember going to the drive-in when I'd just turned 12. The price for admission went up 50 cents for 12 and up so I told dad to just tell them I was 11. How would they ever know I logiced. He said, "Cathy, my honesty is worth more than 50 cents" I remember last year listeneing to a group of junior high kids discussing how they were going to sneak into an event at the school. I posed the same question "Just how much is your honesty worth?" Less than a dollar, was their answer. They needed a dad like mine, was my answer.
ReplyDeleteI remember overhearing dad tell a friend, "Of all my children, Cathy has the best taste in music" (now before you all go on the war path, remember I was about ten and none of you were old enough to have developed much in the way of musical discrepancy, with the sole exception of Tony, and let's face it, this was the 60's it's not like there was a plethora of quality music to choose from, aka Sugar, Sugar by the Archies, you get my point. anyway, when you're a little girl and you dad complements you to a friend, it means a lot. I stood a little prouder and a little taller. I watch the fighter in dad struggle with this disease. He so disparately wants me to know "I'm still proud of you" I still love you" "I'm still here...somewhere"
I remember when I felt a little down, even with all the family there for a reunion when I was about 13 years old. I was just one of MANY people there wandering around, talking. But he saw it on my face. Go figure, I think I can hide my emotions well, right mom? ;) Anyway he asked me to come be by him and began giving me attention and adoration in his way, of course. I'll never forget how shocked I was that not only had he been perceptive enough to notice, but he cared enough to help me feel better. The sensitive nature has been passed on to many of his posterity. What a legacy to leave and what a gift to have.
ReplyDeleteAlzhiemer's Prayer
ReplyDeleteI remember you with my heart, and I do love you.
I can't recall where I knew you, who you were, or who I was.
Maybe I grew up with you or maybe we worked together,
or did we bowl together yesterday?
There is something wrong with my memory, but I do know you
I know you and love you, I do love you.
I know how you made me feel, I remember the feelings we had together,
My heart remembers, it cries out in loneliness for you,
for the feelings you give me now.
When you leave my mind will not remember that you were here, but my heart
remembers, remembers the feeling of friendship and love returned.
My heart remembers that I am less lonely and happier today
because you have come.
Please, please don't forget me and please don't stay away
because of the way my mind acts.
I can still feel you, I can remember you with my heart,
And a heart memory is maybe the most important memory of all
With all my love, Dad, Grandpa and Great Grandpa
My reluctance to write is predicated by the fact that it would fall far short of those who have expressed their thoughts before me. I feel a desire to express my thoughts, however inadequate they might be, because of my love for Dad.
ReplyDeleteLike most of you, I expressed my love to Dad when we he was diagnosed with this disease. I know without a doubt that the memories that Dad has are still with him. This disease will not, cannot, for whatever reason, let him remember. I have no hope that he ever will. Not in this life.
When I look into his eyes, or watch him move, I look for any nuance that he might remember something, not necessarily about me, but something.
When I see Dad, I see the man that was stronger, smarter and loved his family more than anything.
When I see Dad, I see someone who valued his integrity, his honesty, more than any amount of money.
When I see Dad, I see a big heart and big hug. He instilled these things in me.
When I see Dad, I see me.
Thanks Dad.
I love you.
The gratitude we express for another is a gift to our own heart, for we reap in our hearts what we sow in our thoughts. Gratitude is an aspect of the experience of love, and there is no feeling more desirable. Yet I hesitate to simply express my gratitude to Dad for the memories, for memories are about what we believe was but no longer is. Actually, a memory is but an interpretation of a perception rather than a recall of reality per se. We do not experience reality, we experience our interpretation of highly filtered perceptions, and memory recalls only a distorted shadow of experience. To me this is not an abstraction of small practical consequence, for it speaks directly to the question of meaning, and the meaning we give to anyone or anything determines what we feel about them or it. Indeed, it determines what we feel period.
ReplyDeleteBoth our bodies and experiences—outer and inner—are constantly changing. If they constitute what we are, what we are is constantly dying and becoming something else. If there is any abiding aspect of us that connects the self of the past with the self of the present, it must be an aspect that does not change. This aspect, if it exists, would be our essence, and would necessarily exist independent of changing bodies and states of mind. If there is a “heart” that remembers when the brain seems to stop processing memory, I suspect it is this abiding essence of self. And I suspect that which remains unchanged has no need for memories of love, for love would ever remain a pure and present experience.
No memory or even the sum of all memories of a person can capture this essence if it exists, though memory may provide a shadowed hint of it, an intuition at the heart of the original experience. I believe in this eternal essence, and I believe that the eternal in Dad never ceases to communicate to the eternal in me. So I place more importance on my intuition of Dad’s continuing, undiminished presence than on my memories of him. At times I try to let my thoughts fall away to better feel this communion. Whether or not my belief is true, the winds of change that inevitably doom all we treasure on earth blow gentler for me because of it. It opens the way to whatever peace I may find in this life.
To you, Dad, I am grateful for the undying bond of love we share, a love stronger and purer than words and acts can express. I would be incomplete without your continued presence. And to each of you, dear family, I feel the same gratitude, whether or not I have given you reason to suspect it. You will search in vain for its expression in your memories, but you may be able to feel it in the stillness of your heart.
Tony