“Boys! Stop tossing that ball! You’ll break something!” my father exclaims with a mixture of panic and annoyance directed at my children.
“It’s alright, Dad,” I reassure him once again, trying hard to keep my voice steady. “It’s soft; the windows are safe.” Yet, I can feel the irritation creeping into my tone. I know that I’ll need to repeat this at least a dozen more times, reminding him that it’s okay for the kids to throw the soft ball indoors while also imploring the kids to ease up on the antics that trigger their grandpa’s anxiety.
“He can’t gauge risks anymore,” I remind them, “so everything seems frightening.” I’ve attempted to explain this countless times, but their young minds struggle to grasp it. Honestly, I find it hard to wrap my head around it too.
Last year, my father received an Alzheimer’s diagnosis. While it wasn’t entirely unexpected—he had been showing signs of dementia for some time—it still felt like a punch to the gut.
When most people think of Alzheimer’s, they usually think of memory loss. Sure, it’s unsettling when my dad fails to recognize my husband, and it’s frustrating to answer the same question repeatedly in mere minutes. Yet, the hardest part isn’t the memory lapses or the constant questions. The most heart-wrenching aspect is that my children, along with their cousins, are growing up without truly knowing their grandpa.
They won’t experience the strong, independent man he once was, the entrepreneur who built a successful company from the ground up. They won’t hear the infectious laughter that filled the room when he was with his siblings. They won’t see him swimming, cycling, or power-walking around the neighborhood with his little dog, Max. They’ll miss witnessing the way his eyes lit up when talking about his family.
Instead, they’ll encounter a different version of him, one shaped by the relentless grip of this disease. They’ll see a man who becomes anxious and angry when their playful energy fills the room. They’ll know someone who is dependent and less vibrant, a man who laughs far less than before.
However, it’s not all sorrow. They will also witness a man who still adores his wife, cooing sweet words to her. They’ll chuckle at his colorful language and off-color jokes. They’ll see a man who tears up during sentimental daytime television, missing his own parents and reminiscing about the past.
In this challenging journey, my children will learn invaluable lessons. They’ll discover patience and the importance of caring for those in need. Perhaps they’ll even learn to temper their exuberance during certain moments.
My husband often reminds me that our kids will remember their grandpa not just through their own experiences but also through the stories I share about him. “You can keep his memory alive by talking about the man he was,” he reassured me one evening. I know he’s right.
Someday, when the dust settles, I hope to reconcile the father I knew with the man he has become due to Alzheimer’s. It’s my honor to pass on the legacy of who he was to my children, ensuring they can know him in a meaningful way.
Alzheimer’s has been described as a “long goodbye,” and that truly encapsulates the experience. My father is still with us, alive but not the same man. Each day feels like a farewell to the person he once was and the adventures he and my mother had envisioned for their golden years.
Goodbye, in a way. But not entirely. We’re not ready to let go.
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In summary, navigating my father’s Alzheimer’s disease is fraught with emotional challenges, particularly as my children grow up without a full understanding of the remarkable man he once was. While we face daily goodbyes to the father I knew, I strive to keep his memory alive for the next generation.