So many
emotions, so much to let out, so much to keep in. Should I write,
shouldn't I write. Will I be perceived as an emotional wreck if my eyes
should decide to leak because the words I write break my heart. My nose
hurts because I scrunch it up trying to keep the tears in my eyes. Why does
getting old have to be such a rough experience. I don't believe it was
intended to be this way. For some reason when I was growing up no one
mentioned of the agony of waiting for the days to pass. The battle of not
knowing day or night. The pain and frustration of not knowing where you are or
what you are supposed to be doing and if there's even anyone else who knows.
And do you believe them when they tell you it will all be okay.
They say they are taking care of things, but that's not the way it was
supposed to be. As the parent he believes he should be taking care of it
all. If only he could understand, he already did. The beginning.
Dad bought
property and built a home. I call it a home because that's what it was,
not a house but a home. The three kids we each had our own room and got to pick
out what color carpet we wanted. Mine was orange shag. I loved it.
Dad worked hard building the home. I remember many evenings spent
on the property while dad and mom worked. The best help we could be was to stay
out of trouble and his way which we did pretty well.
We grew up on this beautiful property and the surrounding area riding horses
and mini bikes. Wading in the creek when there was water and walking in
the sand beds when there wasn't. Hiking the mountains, and swimming in
the pools. We loved it! Life was grand! We each grew up and
married and built homes on the property that my dad had worked so hard to
provide for us. The agreement was the take care of my mom and dad when
they grew older. My mom left us far too early. A stroke that she only
partially recovered from and then other diseases that racked her body and
wouldn't allow her to continue being who she needed, wanted, desired to
be. My father and sister and others including myself were her
faithful caregivers till her fragile body gave out.
Dad continued living his life but never quite the same. He remarried for
a while but it didn't work out as age and a diagnoses and symptoms of Parkinson's Disease began to deteriorate his body and mind. Which bring us to where we are today.
Why is this part so hard? How to know which choice to make. Even though
he said it, and I thought I understood what he said, even put it
in writing, and yet I am still finding it difficult. What if he
really didn't mean it. What if he changed his mind and doesn't feel that
way anymore? And yet I know it's what I would want should it be me
in his situation and my children living with the responsibility of making
decisions for me.
Before
things got too bad, when there were still moments of clarity and Dad was still living
in the home he built for us all. We were sitting at the dining room table
and I asked Dad, "If you could have or do or accomplish anything in the
world and money wasn't an issue, what would it be?" He stopped for a
moment and thought about his answer then said, "Well, I guess I'd like to
work hard and buy a piece of property so each of my kids could build a house
and raise their family to love and serve God." I could hardly contain my excitement and quickly replied "Dad, dad, Congratulation!
You've done it! You have accomplished the thing you wanted most in life.
You can relax and rest in the knowledge that you have DONE
IT! We are all grown up and now our families are building families and
homes of their own. Continuing the tradition of family, loving and working,
and living and caring, that you taught us." And yet in his despair,
his moment of clarity gone for now he just shook his head and placed it in his
hands and said. "But this isn't my house."
And because
of all that I believe we have made the right decision. We have placed him
somewhere safe. Where caring people can help him and call us if there is
a need. He is well taken care of in a clean, safe, cozy, home like
environment. And yet we still feel we should do more. But how can
you love any more than you already love. How can you be more than your very
soul is being?
You can't.
You can only just keep giving it what you've got to give. Praying
and believing, standing on the promises of God’s word with faith and love.
And asking for Gods help to be strong and faithful while caring for one
of His sons who is in the process of making his journey home.
