I accompanied her to pick up a brand new commode, I was curious, so I asked her if it belong to her dad, she said yes.
Immediately I felt a feeling as she drifts. I felt a lonely, sad and curious air in her voice, because she needed to ask me questions about so many things that is so new to her, that she will have to learn, in order to take care of her dad. He was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease, and it was getting worse. His actions were changing and there was nothing that she could do to reclaim what he was losing, and was about to lose. He was losing his sense of direction, his sense and awareness of where things were supposed to be placed. He could no longer figure out which room was the bathroom.
He did not tremor as much, however his speech slurred, as he drooled.
She consistently felt his pain of losing and recognized the drift.
She felt him as he was moving into the lonely and confused place where no one wants to be. I was sure that she wanted to do as much as she could do for him before the ‘Day of Silence’ comes. She decided that she would spend as much time as possible with him, and takes him to his favorite restaurants, vintage car museums as well as sightseeing that was of interest to him. I applauded her, because she never showed tiredness, because she loved her dad, and she noticed that he was drifting.
Drifting is frightening and slow, he knew that it was happening to him, so, noting else mattered anymore.
I believed that the only things that mattered to him was having the presence of family, loved ones, and being allowed to remain in the familiar place called home.
I knew then that I understood, I got it, I felt it to my gut, and it made me cry.
It made me cry because I remembered the look my dad had on his quiet face as he laid in the small bed between the patterned cloth screen, that separated him and his roommate at The Palms Nursing Home. He was placed temporarily in a Nursing Home, because he had contacted UTI (urinary tract infection) while he was in the hospital. It was terrifying because I felt the drifting and I knew that he would much rather be at home with his family and friends. My father had Vascular Dementia for several years, but died of congested heart failure much later on.
Drifting is emptiness, and sometimes fearful, fearful of the continuous loss of love. Every new day, is a new day of losing love and a loved one………….