Dad in Not All Who Wander Are Lost

Last Saturday was my dad’s birthday. Adam and Jaden had haircuts in the morning and while they were doing that I was going to run to Kroger with the girls and pick up a cake from a local bakery. Mom called at about 11 to see what time we were going to be there, and I told her about 1 or so. Then she says, “Well, I need to tell you something, just so you’re not surprised when you get here.”

Which is always the thing you want to hear from your mom, right?

So she tells me dad’s been put on hospice care. He’s been in a lot of pain lately, and they couldn’t figure out why and she remembered the same problem with my grandmother right before she died, too. Her best friend, who is a nurse, suggested mom call hospice and they came in and evaluated him and . . . Yeah. The thing with hospice, which I didn’t really realize, is that it’s not this actual time frame for end of life. It’s more just about making dad comfortable FOR his end of life which still isn’t . . . I mean it’s good but it’s not good. Anyway.

So of course I’m a total crying mess after this, like I could even go pick up a cake after this conversation. Mom’s so zen about everything and I can barely get off the floor. Adam came home and he went to the store and got the cake for me. He had to work so the kids and I went off to mom and dad’s (about 45 min away.) We were about 20 minutes off when mom calls and says they need to deal with some dad stuff and to just ring the bell when we get there. Mom comes out and says dad had a seizure and then vomited all over himself and he’d probably just be sleeping most of the afternoon. She had originally called to tell us not to come but since we were nearly there . . .

He just looked so . . . Weak. So my dad but unlike my dad. Very dazed and just . . . Vacant. Like I know it’s Alzheimer’s and he’s on morphine but god I just burst into tears seeing him. And it’s hard because I don’t want him to see me cry. I don’t even know if he knows who I am but he smiles when he sees me and I don’t want him to see me upset. But it’s so, so hard. I want to sit and talk to him and spend time but I can’t just do that. I feel so weak because of it, like I’m failing at this duty of being his daughter and I should just SIT THERE and TALK TO HIM but I hate this so much.

He slept most of the time but woke up for a late lunch and some cake. We sang him happy birthday and he tried to sing along. Mom fed him cake, she has to feed him everything now, and we just sat around his bed and talked. He likes to watch the girls, because of course they’re silly and bouncing around on my mom’s bed. We had to leave about 7 so it was a pretty nice visit. And then I basically cried all the way home.

And basically every day since.

I am a wreck. I am SO a wreck. I feel like I’m balancing on this razor’s edge of like being okay and dissolving into tears at any second. I don’t really want to talk to people in person or see anyone face to face. I just can’t. I’ve cancelled every single plan I’ve had that hasn’t been for one of the kids for the next two weeks. And we are talking friends I haven’t seen in months but I can’t handle it right now.

I keep going round and round in my head. My dad is not my dad. He’s been robbed of everything that makes him him. My dad who could solve any rubik’s cube in less than a minute, who told the punniest jokes, who ate salted radishes from a bag while watching TV, and could fix any electronic device. My dad who would take me to the park on the coldest days and watch me play on the monkey bars. My dad who helped us with our math homework and came to every single dance recital. I would lay across his lap while he was watching TV and he’d spell things on my back and I’d have to guess the words. My dad who taught me to drive. And my dad is not my dad. And he’s in pain and I don’t want him to die but I don’t want him like this. And I can’t let go because he’s my dad but I can’t see him like this. Like it just sucks. And my mom who is just so strong and just DOES IT. Who has watched this happen to her partner of 45 years. Who tells me it’s okay to cry but that it is just happening this way. And I just cry every moment I can and even really inopportune ones like at work or at the grocery store or wherever. Because it’s hard and it’s terrible and it sucks.

And it’s my dad. And my dad is not my dad. And I can look at him and I can miss him and I’m mourning him and I have to keep mourning him and I’m weak and I can’t do this.

And it sucks.

+min