Walk With Me

For the past several years, life has been so hectic and fast paced. Some of my own doing for no good reason, some of necessity, some of life not turning out the way I planned. Now things have actually slowed down. What I was hoping and praying for in those hectic moments has come to be – rest and quiet. Yet, some days I still feel hectic, unsettled - anything but quiet. So what’s with all the noise? Too much time lends to thinking about Dad. The other day, Jon and I were talking and I said that it just really sucks that I’ve lost Dad. Jon replied by saying that I have not lost him; he’s still here. Now trust me, Jon is not saying this out of ignorance. He is doing his best to comfort me and be there for me.  He fully knows and understands what I mean. Even still, there are moments I want to shout, “no, Dad isn’t here anymore”. The person who would listen and give advice in moments just like this is not here anymore. The person who would remind me I’m my worst critic and assure me

This summer, Jon and I took the girls to their first outdoor concert. I preface the following by saying Jon will never lose his law enforcement training and having three young girls, he is hyper-vigilant when we are in large crowds. That night, halfway through the set, a young man seemed to sneak out of nowhere and stood right by us with an overly stuffed large backpack. At first, there was no one with him and he did not seem to move a muscle, no real eye contact with people, did not say hi... Now me, I initially did not think much of it but Jon got a little concerned. As my awareness piqued so did my concern, enough that I am not ashamed to say I seriously considered we leave. Jon did strike up a conversation with the kid. (Yes, Jon was friendly but I know my husband enough to know that underneath it was also an inquisitive, fact-finding conversation.) I am thankful that my husband is in tune to things this way as I am kind of a rose colored glasses want to believe that everyon

I’ve thought about this a lot the past couple of times I’ve made the trek to spend a few hours with Dad. In the last year or so, that 30-minute drive to the place I grew up has become a hard route to travel. This entire journey is hard. When I drive over, the girls request our “van jam” songs and we talk about hanging out with Grandpa. In my head I'm thinking about how it really sucks that Lydia is at school at she misses out on time with Grandpa and that it really sucks that Bethany is going to be going off to school and she’ll be missing time with Grandpa. I wonder how Dad has changed since the last time we visited? Will he remember my name; will he remember the girls’ names? Will he be upbeat or is he having a down day? I feel so guilty that I don’t/can’t make this trip more often to spend more time with Dad. I spend time reminding myself that no matter what I’ve done to mentally prepare for the day, I have to throw all expectations out the window and just go with the flow.

“If you have never had a loved one look at you without recognizing who you are, the idea of grieving the loss of someone that is standing right in front of you might seem counterintuitive. In fact, even those who have a loved one with profound dementia often have trouble resolving their own emotions. There may even be multiple times when you may grieve, recover, and then see your loved one slip even further away from you and experience that loss all over again. ” –Maria Shriver The above is so true that grief with a dementia patient is this vicious cycle: grieve, recover, discover another sign they’re slipping away, and then the cycle starts all over again. There are stretches of time where I feel strong and trust that God is taking care of Dad, helping my Mom, and walking with us. But then… Some days when the to-do list is a little bit shorter and the kids are growing more independent, it’s hard for the mind not to wander. Today is a blue day; one of those days where though

Not long ago, my five year old came to me in tears and when I asked her what was wrong she said, “I’m going to miss Grandpa when he goes to heaven.” (I will later discover this was sparked by her finding the book “What is Heaven Like” by Beverly Lewis tucked away on the shelf.) I can’t not answer; I don’t want to pretend that death isn’t a part of life. But, what do I do when she speaks the very fear that creeps in my heart? Do I try to be strong and pretend I’m not just as impacted by that same thought? Do I break down sobbing and not get up the rest of the day? What do I say when my girls ask me why God doesn’t give Grandpa his memories back or asks if God will give him His memory back when he is in heaven? How do I answer the very questions I’m asking God? Ugh! There is no instruction manual for this sort of thing. I mean, no instruction manual for parenting alone is so UGH! But, for this? Of course, it is my hope that Dad will be with us for many years; right now, he is

Forgive me for not being incredibly passionate about the current political state of this country. (Which don’t get me wrong, I’m fully aware!)  Forgive me if I seem a little oblivious or as though I’m not participating as much as usual. Forgive me if when I see you, I completely forget to ask you how you are doing. I know I don’t really owe an apology but I am a people pleaser. Truly, I am more aware than you know. There are a lot of things not fair about what’s going on in the world. But for me, in my little world, you know what’s not fair? What’s not fair is silently sitting on the sidelines while I watch my Dad looking at his granddaughter and I sense he’s trying to recall something, but it’s just not coming to him. What’s not fair is when my Dad, the author, technical writer, sermon writer, struggles to write the letter “H” in the word “fish”. What’s not fair is having moments where I wonder if my Dad knows who I am. That’s completely not fair! My Dad is living with dementia