Week 7: Bitterness Rising
By Elizabeth Shean, Caring.com contributing editor
Today, my father looked across the kitchen table at me and asked pleasantly, "So, tell me. Where were you born?"
Of course, he knows perfectly well where I was born. Or, at least, he used to know. But today, he was making small talk with the nice woman across the table who is a stranger to him.
I was born in Clark Valley, the fourth generation born onto the family farm. Like my two siblings, I wasn't literally born on the farm; I entered the world at our small town's community hospital.
We experienced an idyllic childhood, my brother, sister, and I. We formed the center of a perfect 1960s nuclear family. Dad worked as a carpenter; Mom stayed home and took care of the kids. We all pitched in on chores to keep the farm running, whether feeding calves or weeding the gigantic vegetable garden. We went to church on Sundays and socialized with our many aunts, uncles, and cousins – most of whom lived within half an hour of us. Dad bowled on a league. Mom belonged to the Ladies' Aid.
Dad remembers none of this. Or, rather, he says the memories are "like a dream" to him.
I tell my dad casually that I was born in Clark Valley. "Oh," he nods. "It was nice there."
I'm not an overly emotional person, but I find myself fighting back tears. My own father has no recollection of me as his daughter. He doesn't remember that time he took the two of us – and only the two of us; no sharing him with my siblings this time – to the major league baseball game. Box seats, no less! He doesn't remember the many times he boosted me up onto our old mare so that I could ride bareback across the pasture. He doesn't remember that time my brother, sister, and I bought him a toolbox for Christmas and, because it was too large to gift wrap, left him a trail of clever clues that had him making a treasure hunt through the house in order to claim his present -- shrieking gleefully the whole time.
All of these memories are gone.
I gaze at Dad, who is finishing his lunch. On the one hand, I am happy he doesn't seem to know how much he has forgotten. At the same time, I feel angry and bitter for him and myself. I feel as if my childhood has been stolen, not only from me but from my dad. Dementia has erased all of the beautiful memories from Dad's mind. It has erased our history as dad and daughter. Too soon, it will erase him from our lives.
I feel angry. Very, very angry.
Yes- I agree-Those memories are not gone, not erased, they still exist and live on inside your heart and you get to pass them on to your children and grandchildren as they hear the wonderful stories about the fun you and your dad had when you were little. No disease can take them away from you. And those kinds of beautiful memories are really all any of us have left when a loved one dies, so cherish them and be happy you had such a glorious childhood, unlike so many others.
I put my mother, Grace, in an assisted care home 11 days ago, and I must say...the first 4 days were awful. I cried and cried, especially as the day progressed (and the caffeine wore off). Fiona, I can so relate to your visits with your mother, as my oldest daughter, Dana 24, asked me why I bothered to visit her so often since she has all but "checked out". Today as I watched Grace watch TV in her new home, I could see her smile and look over at me several times. Her new caregiver kept mentioning that I was her daughter, but at one point she asked if I was really her sister. Her face lights up when I walk in the door and she is all smiles and hugs while I'm there. I hope the love and patience I show towards my mother will actually, in some way, be a lesson to my daughters. As one wise man (I forget who) said "Teaching by example isn't one way to teach, it's the ONLY way." Sounds pretty accurate to me...
Hugs Fiona, redhatprincess, Charlotte ALIG
Yes, exactly. I took my eldest with me today to see my Mom (he's 22). On the way there he lectured me that once she "gets nothing" out of my visiting 4-5 times a week, he thinks I should cut back to only once or twice, because he hates to see me coming home crying. I told him that as long as I remember that she is my Mom, I won't let her be all alone. She smiled at us both...we told her who we were...I'm not sure if she understood what "daughter" and "grandson" meant, but she smiled a lot and was happy while we were there. On the way home I told him, "See, that's why I go." He smiled back at me.
Prayers JOYFUL9574
Having a Dad with alzheimers brings many different emotions. Yes i was angry that i was a hour and a half away from his nursing home.Yes i was angry that this horrible disease had taken my dad from me.Yes i was angry at the nursing home because they didn't take proper care of my dad. Yes i even thought my dad might be better off he were to pass away, (God forgive me). But i never stop going see him every week, i never failed to tell him i loved him. WHY! Because he was my dad. He was the one that loved me even when i was unloveable. He never stop loving me,and caring for me...This was the least i could do. I still miss him dearly, he was the wind beneath my wings.....
Hugs hopeful1957, Fiona
Charlotte ALIG, how to deal with the fears? That is the question much of the time. I grew up very poor and we have worked very hard to get to where we are. I fear ending up in poverty again due to my husband's health. I deal with that one by continuing to work, although I've been eligible to retire for 5 years. I fear being alone after all this time and then I realize that I am more or less alone already. My husband, confidante, lover, best friend is gone - what's left is a shell of the man who is like an infant in an adult body. So I think being alone would, in some ways, be better than the life I have now. I used to wake in the night, heart pounding out of chest, anxious over whatever the latest crisis was. Somehow, through the months and years, I have come to an acceptance of this awful disease and its effects. I think that the stages of grief apply to this journey as a caregiver: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/K%C3%BCbler-Ross_model. For the most part, I am in the acceptance phase but, sometimes, I drift back to the depression phase or the anger phase. Of course, how I feel now may well change, but I think death will be a welcome release for both me and my dear husband. I find that "talking" on the caring.com site helps me deal with the fears. So many are going through similar trials and, just knowing that I'm not alone helps. Once in a while, someone will send me a message that something I have shared has helped them, and that helps me, too. I believe that we are spiritual beings having a temporary physical experience here in this life and that our spirits live on in the next. I am a Christian and my faith sustains me when all else fails. God bless you.
Hugs Charlotte ALIG
"I am afraid. I break down and cry at times, cannot hold the tears back, and worse of all, I think sometimes they are just tears of self pity." Charlotte, please stop judging yourself. Everyone else might be doing that, but that is their problem. I have always told my kids that you don't get to pick the hand of cards you are dealt in life...it's random. Your character is shown by how you play that hand. You have been dealt an awful lot for one person to deal with alone...and in essence, you are worse than alone, since the one person you should be able to depend on for support, your husband, is slipping away from you into a twilight of dementia. And your best friend has deserted you also? Then she wasn't much of a best friend! All of us here are support for you. Don't ever be afraid that you have no one to talk to who understands. I joined this group because even my husband can't know how I feel when my own mother asks me who I am, or she looks at a picture of my Dad, to whom she was married for over 50 years and asks, "Do I know him? Did I have any children?" I joined so that when I "vent", the people who read what I say nod in understanding, or cry with me. And when Mom has a good day, like yesterday, when she was upbeat and friendly, and looked at pictures of my 4 kids (her only grandchildren) and seemed to remember them, but laughed with me as I told her stories of their antics of long ago, then I feel strong enough to sit at my computer and lend some of my strength to all of you. Other times, I sit here and cry, but I don't judge myself. You are not superwoman. Tears are your body's way of relieving stress by washing away hormones that could be detrimental to your own health, and you need all the strength you can find within yourself, to deal with all of the people who depend on you. So feel free to vent here. This is a place where you can say the things you hate yourself for even thinking. I tried to send you a hug, but the system wouldn't let me in, since I'm at my husband's computer this time, not my laptop. But please, consider yourself hugged, a big one that makes you feel that just for an instant, the weight of the world is off of you, because a burden shared is a burden lessened. You are loved. Now cry a little, and I hope you feel better for it.
I have been reading the posts for awhile now and have to say that I am becoming a bit frightened. I live in Germany so a lot of things are different here...I can't get a support group like you all due to the language, so I really am glad I can read and write to this fine group. I am 74+ and hubby is 79. He is in the early stages of his dementia, it is only noticeable to close family members. I have lost my best friend living with me due to his behavior..and her lack of understanding. I understand her though, perfectly. As I read through the posts, my heart goes out to so many of you. There is so much strength shown in most of your posts, even when you are showing fears and worries. But there is another side to reading the posts. It is scaring me AS Hans is now, it is upsetting, aggravating, embarrassing at times, frustrating, and very frightening. Some of the problems you all have are now looming very large in my immediate future. I fear for the financial aspects as well as behavioral ...I fear that my strength, which has always gotten me through many things, is waning. I also have a son with terminal lung cancer...and a son in law who may have the muscular dystrophy that runs in his family....has killed a couple of aunts and has totally crippled his sister. We are worried about his grandchildren..3 little girls. It's a lot of pressure all at once. I am afraid. I break down and cry at times, cannot hold the tears back, and worse of all, I think sometimes they are just tears of self pity.....it is the others who are suffering...then I push my repression and suppression buttons, and crank up my all my denial capabilities and am ok for awhile. Can anyone comment on how to help my fears that pop up as I read the info necessary to help me understand? Charlotte
Hugs tambela
Prayers nannysangel
The day after I finished my chemo/radiation treatment for breast cancer, I flew to Orlando, then took a cab to my parent's house in Fruitland Park, FL. We went straight to the hospital to visit my mother, who had been hospitalized for three months for a bad fall she had taken, injury to the head and late stage alzheimer's diease. Funny thing was, when I was her 6 months ago, she didn't have any signs of alzheimer's. After trying for three months to get any information in regards to my mom's condition, I finally had that snitty nurse in front of me. "I'm the one you have refused to give any information to for the last three months, so now that I'm here, how is my mother?". "She's being discharged tomorrow to a nursing home". "Good, I'm glad she is finally getting away from here and away from you". As soon as I walked into the room my mother's eyes lit up..."STEFANIE"!!!, "That's my daughter Stefanie, she had breast cancer, but she's alright now" and began sobbing. I cried too and rushed over to hug her. No alzheimer's, nope, deaf as a doornail, you betcha and the hospital staff couldn't figure that out? They had diagnosed her with alzheimer's and she was deaf instead. My father on the other hand, the one they kept releasing all the medical information to, did have advanced alzheimer's and tell couldn't tell. How scary is that?
Hugs Charlotte ALIG
Well, almost 5 years ago my Dad was diagnosed with colon cancer. He had major surgery, came through, then it returned. A year later he started chemo...did that for a year, but found himself becoming diminished. He discussed with me that he did not want to prolong his life if he could not do the things he enjoyed, like working his crosswords, which was impossible with how addled he was from "chemo-brain". So I agreed that when it was time hospice would be called. And then he had a stroke. While in the hospital trying to regain use of one side, he took a turn for the worse, and the doctor told us it was time for hospice. The hospice nurse who interviewed us in the hospital asked me if I had ever had my Mom tested for dementia. So not only did I need to find a place for Dad to die in, but Mom was badly in need of help herself, since she had refused to visit a doctor in over 30 years. I had to take over total care for both of them. And I have 4 young adult kids(2 in college, 2 in high school), 2 part-time jobs, and I'm job-hunting; and my husband likes to spend time with me, and I write novels. So "all God's chilluns be busy"...I know that, and I'm not asking for pity. What I AM saying is that I have been through losing a parent to cancer, and this is MUCH worse. Every time Mom enters a new phase, another part of my heart breaks off and bleeds, with the pain as unbearable as when I held Dad's hand as he stopped breathing. When she stopped showering, and wouldn't let anyone else help her, once a week I showered her. She accused me of trying to kill her, giving her pneumonia, and hit me and told me she hated me. Until it was done, she was warm and dry, and I had rubbed lotion all over her, to keep her skin from being itchy. Then she smiled and said how nice she felt. Now she doesn't care who showers her anymore... she has lost her ability to dress or undress herself, and toileting is becoming an issue. All of these things hurt as much as if she was dying in front of me, but it's not over yet...and probably won't be for a while. I have read that unless something else takes her, she will eventually lose the ability to swallow, and will literally starve to death. I am really scared for her, yet I must smile when I visit her, so she won't sense anything wrong. And only infrequently does she remember my name, or who I am and why I visit every day, and take care of her. I have lost one parent to cancer. I preferred that...it was quicker, and until the last few days, he was "there", and "himself". And I know very well that I will not feel guilt when she is gone, as I don't about Dad, since I did all that could be done for him too. But this is a forum to allow us to share, and to vent. No one can judge us here. All we can offer each other is a shoulder to cry on, and a hand to hold, as we each face our own unique pain. And I really hope that my own kids are learning from me, how to love when there is nothing that can be gained or returned. I could just ignore Mom, let her be taken care of by the people I pay to care for her. But I don't. She's my Mom, and though it tears me apart, I will visit her as often as I can, until the end. I just hope I can be there holding her hand also. Because that's what love is.
Hugs nannysangel
Prayers danlyn
To Fiona, My comment was not to pass judgement. We all have our crosses to bear. And I know that it can be frustrating and stressful to care for a sick parent. Oh....by the way congratulations on being a "published writer." But I also believe that we have to look beyond our emotional selves. I said selfish in the fact that someone's upset that their parent can no longer recognize them????? That is a reality that hurts and can't be changed. Our attitude towards it can be. I have lost both my parents to cancer within two years of one another. I was very angry when my father got ill for many reasons (he got sick first). Mainly why him? But I had to be grateful for time I had with him (and my mother). It wasn't fun watching them waste away, but as long as they lived, I was going to be there for them. Being bitter would not help me or them. Yes, we have been handed something we were not prepared to handle, but that's life. We can find strength in the face of adversity. Remember... these people loved and nurtured us, and anger and bitterness will never solve anything and it does only serve to rob us. All I'm saying is when they're gone you don't want to say "if I coulda, shoulda, woulda". My statements are made in hopes that they will give someone that extra boost they need to keep on keeping on. It's what I would want. Not to wallow in misery. Life is too short for that.
I miss my mom. Not the one that lives with me now but the one that I grew up with. Some days I gets glimpses of "my mom". They say she has only "mild to moderate dementia. So I have a long road ahead but I already beginning to mourn the loss of the mother I once knew.
Prayers nannysangel, Chessie
danlyn you are WAY off base, accusing any of us of being selfish! This is where we go to blow off steam...to say the kinds of things we think and regret immediately, then beat ourselves up for even thinking. We have lost a parent, and are mourning that parent being gone. But we are bound by love and memories which are no longer shared, to take care of the increasingly helpless old person who is left. If we can't say our feelings here, where the hell can we? Yes, our parent did not choose this reality, but neither did we! And yes, we will miss them when they are gone...but we already miss them, because in a very real way, they are ALREADY GONE! Please, no judgments or guilt trips here. And to all of my fellow care-givers, I love you all. It's a difficult task we have been given...my Mom had a good day today, because I took her to a nail salon, since she won't let me trim her fingernails(which had brown gunk of some kind hardened and embedded underneath them) or toenails. But she lets them...and they massaged her legs and arms, and painted bright pink on her nails. So I have a little strength to lend you all today...tomorrow I may be in tears again. Take it while I have it, then give it back to me when I need it!
Hugs Mill Valley Dad, imadoglover
Prayers danlyn
I believe your problems with your dad's dementia are a little selfish in nature. He is experiencing something - not of his doing - but something he can't help. Fortunately, you still have precious time to spend with your dad. Anger will only rob you of this precious time. Create some new memories of your own involving your dad at this time. And, yes. One day his illness will take him away from you. All the more reason to cherish the time you have with him NOW!
I moved into Dad’s house last November after a divorce, thinking that I was buying a home in the 4 – 6 weeks, but that didn’t happen. My sister from Florida was already living with Dad, up here for a year now, working from her laptop to be with him. I am still waiting to buy a house, but I now know that it was not meant to happen right away – I am where I am, and my sister is where she is – for a reason. Dad needs us badly, whether or not he really wants to admit it. He is getting more and more confused – more and more tired of living – and more and more unable to take care of himself, but I think that moving him somewhere else would be the end of him. My sister and I disrupting his routines, his great-grandson visiting, my sister’s dogs, a new washer and dryer, and many other things can be daily frustrations to him, but also give him moments of laughter and reasons for getting out of bed, too – things to keep him going, that I don’t think an assisted living home or nursing home would give him. He was always scared to death of going to a nursing home or being a burden to us – and although we all know HE CAN HAVE HIS MOMENTS – “he’s not heavy, he’s our father” – who is going to be 85 in two weeks, and we love him. We watch helplessly as Dad declines in his mental capacity, and struggle each day with how to handle things he says and does – much like last night, when he saw Mom’s maiden name written on a paper, and said “they were a nice family – I married one of their daughters, you know, she was a nice woman” – I said to myself “YOU MEAN, MY MOTHER??” But sometimes even when you say things like that out loud to him, it seems he doesn’t hear you or understand what you said - he’s in his own world. Reading your article, and the comments from people who responded to it, gives us strength to keep taking care of Dad, and to help us remember the good times, when we were younger and were a good family together – it also makes you think that perhaps we were blessed to not have to have seen Mom go through anything like this (she died rather suddenly), and to remember that our children are watching how we take care of and love Dad – hopefully, they will remember it when we are old and feeble, too.
In the last year Mom has been diagnosed with lung cancer, broken her hip and been diagnosed with dimentia. By far the hardest to deal with is the dimentia. Cancer?, have radiation, broken hip?, fix it, dimentia... who am I talking to today. Once you get through the anger, scream and cry, go to bed sleep and start a new day... we are there ... we help them whether they remember or not. We are their legacy.
Guilt is such a negative emotion, that it saps your strength and doesn't allow for you to see the good still in life. Let it go, imadoglover, let it go. My Mom always said she'd kill herself before she'd be a "burden to her children". My brother has no burden, because he pretends it isn't happening. I am lucky that Mom was such a hoarder of money, because as long as it holds out, I will keep her living in the assisted living place where they take such good care of her. I work, my kids and husband work, and it would cost more to have someone here watching her during the day...not to mention, we don't have a closet to spare, room-wise. Would I prefer to take care of her myself? I'd like to think so...but where she is, they are experienced at dealing with all of the phases she is going through. And it's harder to see such dissolution when you remember the person that used to be there. Let go of the guilt and make sure they take good care of her there by visiting often, dropping in regularly, and often staying no more than an hour, just to let her see you there, even if she doesn't know WHY you visit. And re-learn how to take care of yourself!
Well, we yet again had to have a neighbor in to help my mother off the floor. Besides totally forgotten bathroom habits and the horrific work it entails to sanitize the house, this stage, to me, is the hardest of all. We went yesterday to the doctor to get her TB test done so she can go into an assisted care living facility, so it's a matter of days now at this point. I am trying my best not to be angry when she decides to lie down in the shower (she has a shower chair)or when she pulls the poop out of her diaper with her hands and inspects it. I simply feel like screaming when she does that, as it is another hour of scrubbing, bleaching and sanitizing. It is killing me to watch this level of deterioration. I am a jewelry designer, which requires many trips to the manufacturing plant in downtown Los Angeles, and plenty of public appearances as I design for young celebrities, but I can't attend any of them. Not only am I afraid to leave her with one person, but my nerves are shot so I don't feel upbeat, energetic and able to promote my line of jewelry in person anymore. I only hope that by putting her in a home that I will become my old self, rather than the guilt ridden person I am afraid of being. I feel that her care is well beyond my capability and that of a housekeeper, but still I feel the guilt when she has a tiny lucid moment where she appears to recognize me, her only daughter.
Prayers nannysangel
Blessed daughter, the lead care-giver at Mom's place told me that things would be easier for me if I learned to "live in her world" when I'm with her. Obviously that's a whole lot harder for you, with her living with you 24/7...but it has helped me to realize in a very concrete way, that she is no longer living in the same reality that I am. Another friend told me that her Dad went through this with HIS Dad, and he told her that it was like looking through a revolving door...sometimes the glass in the doors line up just right, and you can look into their eyes and see they are still in there. Then a split second later, it's gone. Those lucid times come less and less often, as the disease progresses. The only thing I comfort myself with is that my Mom was always a fearful person. I don't think she is "aware" enough to be scared anymore. I guess it's only a small mercy, but I'll take it.
Fiona, I hear you loud and clear. Yesterday was a good day. Today, my mom asked me if she had children. Of course, we worked through it and I displayed no dismay or hurt but I guess I fantacize that she will remain lucid most of the time with occasional moments of forgetfulness. I am fighting like a Trojan to keep her on this planet mentally and in this demension but it is a selfish struggle and one that I am losing. My new favorite word is GRACE...God, give me the grace to handle what is looming over me. I never thought I would be here. This is so hard.
Just like imadoglover, I feel abandoned by my Mom, even though I know it's not her fault, or her choice. She is living in an assisted living place, where the angels there take good care of her. But when I got my first fiction novel published last year, I took it to her with a personal inscription in it, thanking her for teaching me to read before kindergarten. And she smiled as if it was no big deal. My MOM, the REAL MOM, would have climbed to the top of the Sears tower to scream in all directions, that HER daughter was a published author, and was better than anyone else's daughter! I really miss her being my biggest cheerleader. It kind of takes some of the enjoyment out of things, not being able to share them with "OLD MOM". But she had been drifting away for years, observed only by my Dad, who was busy fighting colon cancer, and waiting to die. At the end, he rejected her, telling her to leave him alone, and he told me she was my "problem now". <sigh> I wish they had had a happy marriage. But sometimes I realize that the fact that she doesn't remember him is a blessing, because he used to insult and degrade her, and she doesn't need to remember that. I spent the last few months, an hour or so at a time, going through all of her drawers and boxes of old photographs. I first separated them by "eras", her life before Dad, after Dad, after I was born, then after my brother was born...then after MY kids were born, since they are her only 4 grandchildren. Then I laboriously cut and pasted all photos into an album for her, writing names in the margin for those I asked other relatives to identify for me. I have shared some of these photos with some cousins, who had no pictures of their parents as teenagers, or who had never seen pictures of the whole family (Mom was 8th of 10 children!) before they started to die off. As I was going through the book with Mom, I would say, "Remember that, Mom? Remember the pool in our backyard? Remember the fun parties we had, with all of your siblings there?" She smiled a lot, but one day looked me seriously in the eye and said, "You know, I really don't remember any of that." I hugged her and told her, "That's okay, Mom. I just want you to be able to look through this book and see that lots of people loved you, and you all were always smiling...you had a good life. And I'll take care of you as long as you need me to." Then I had to leave, so I could cry. Try the photo album with your Dad. My Mom's macular degeneration makes it problematic as to whether or not she can really even see the pictures, but it makes me feel I can do SOMETHING to make her smile. We have lost the parent we loved, but we are bound by love to take care of the person who is left, even if they don't remember who we are (and she doesn't.) Do your best, and know that there are lots of us who know just what you are going through. As you give, so shall you receive. Your kids are watching and learning how to give love even when none can come back. Be strong.
Oh, Elizabeth, My heart truly hurts for you. As I read your post, I had this really strange, uncanny urge to let you know something I truly believe - something that carries me through the days I am spending with my foster mom. I don't think your father has forgotten anything. I think those memories are trapped deep inside him in a place where consciousness is now the keyholder. I believe that he relives those memories as he sleeps when the doors of his mind are unlocked. Though his sleep make be short and fitful at times, that is when he "remembers" everything and relives those wonderful times he spent with you. So take comfort in knowing that behind that unknowing stare, there are those same twinkling eyes you saw at the ballgame or when he discovered his toolbox. The memories are there; locked safely inside in a place only he can go now. Your childhood has not been stolen, it is safely tucked deep inside his mind, never to be lost again. You are creating new memories which are bittersweet for you now, but these new memories will carry you through the tougher times ahead. Enjoy your time with the father who knows you and the man who wants to where you were born. You have my prayers, thoughts, and love.
Just like Anonymous, I had to realize I am thinking for my mother now. Because watching the effects of her dementia is so painful, I have to sharpen my 58 year old brain to come up with things to keep her occupied and fulfilled (like shredding papers and wiping down the table). She is a deeply spiritual being who says grace over meals like an angel. We are in awe of her profound prayers, none of which are exactly the same. Of course, that is her job now. Also, she loves old hymns, though many of the words escape her. I have found many of them on YouTube and she and I sing along with the performers. In fact, it makes her so happy that, at 92 years of age, she is telling me she would like her own computer. She also plays computer Mahjongg. I do give her vitamins, which I hope help, but I firmly believe mental exercise produces the most lucrative results. I want her every remaining day to be good. I realize that may not happen but I promise myself I will do all possible to make it happen. Do I get frustrated at times? You bet! The emotional strain, even with the help of my wonderful husband, occasional respite of my brother, and friends, is exhausting. I realize a whole lot rides on my attitude. I am doing everything in my power to keep healthy, upbeat and thankful.
I totally understand the anger. Sometimes I think I feel angry towards my mother because essentially she is dying. She has advanced Alzheimers's and remembers nothing. She has no idea that I am her daughter. Even though it's the natural cycle of life, I can't help but feeling abandoned, even though it is through no fault of hers, of course. I can't even talk to her because she doesn't speak and when she tries to talk, it's just gibberish, and she gives up. I am glad to read what "anonymous" wrote about sharing the stories with her. Even though she seems to be totally coherent of any conversation in general, who knows...she might actually understand more than I give her credit for. I am going to try to start discussing the good old days with her.It might actually be a good thing to do with your father since the stories seem to recall such fond memories! You need a lot of courage to go through what you're going through. I totally understand how anger and frustration slip into your thoughts! I wish you the very best!!
You remember. You are the memory for you both now. You cantell him the memories like a story and maybe his "dreams" will become clearer for awhile. If not,then enjoy him for the person who he has become and share with him the memories of who he was. I'm sure he will like himself. My mother does. We've had the best laughs over her stories.