Life by Grace Alone

Alzheimer's disease was described by someone as the long goodbye. It's a very apt title. Very few conditions allow loved ones to witness the dismantling of a person piece by piece in a seemingly haphazard way . Although the process was painful to watch, we were granted the privilege of seeing my father for eight years in his home with his wife of almost fifty years, interacting with his children and grandchildren. We had the time to witness small parts of our dad, memories we thought were gone float for a moment to the top. Those moments were brief but precious reminders of who the whole man was. Everyone agreed that the time had come to put Daddy in a home. It was time for Mother to experience her own life, a life not always centered on her husband. She tried a local home but they did not understand the problems dealing with a wanderer. Daddy left at the first opportunity. In about 24 hours Mother had found a place about an hour away. It certainly was not easy to make the trip...

How long had it been since Josh was born and clear signs had appeared that perhaps my father's mind was beginning to unravel? We had tried to explain away what was happening until there were no explanations left except Alzheimers. Mother had dealt with him at home including him in as many activities as possible. She had taken away the keys to his truck and so he had to stay closer to home. Filling the bird feeder which had been just one of many things to do, now became a focal point of his day. All 5 of us children lived far away and those friends that wanted to help could do only so much. How many of those friends marveled at my mother's determination to keep him at home just a little longer? We knew Daddy would never hurt mother as long as he knew who she was. There were now more stories about when he didn't. One night she walked into the bedroom. Daddy greeted her with words something like, " What are you doing here? I'm married and I'm not that kind of man....

As I look over my haphazard journal entries that I made while Daddy was slowly leaving us, I'm not sure of the order of events. Perhaps proper chronology is not as important as what those entries say about the people involved and their love for each other. We were living in Nebraska when my mother called with the message that if I wanted to see my father one more time while he still recognized me, I needed to come soon. I had not seen him in a while. How much would my father of more than 40 years still be familiar to me? I did not know what to expect of my visit. I just knew I was tired of hurried phone calls and half-guesses about the burden my mother bore. I decided to have my daughter, Jessica, fly home with me. I think in some way I thought my daughter's sweet temperament would comfort my parents while also acting as a buffer between me and what seemed like an unreal scenario. She was only eight. We arrived home. "Your dad's doing well," my mother said. But h...