Several years ago, we learned my father had Alzheimer’s. We had suspected it for some time; however, the certainty was still upsetting. The following year, my husband and I decided to move closer to the family. I wanted to be able to spend time with my father while he still had good years.
In June 2000, my husband received a job offer in Nashville Tn. We relocated from Everett WA in August of that year. I stayed behind to finish the project I was working on in Seattle and moved in November. I took a few months off from working and then began working part time for a transportation consulting firm that eventually led to a consultant position to the Regional Transportation Authority in Nashville.
This position offered the flexibility I needed to be able to go to Augusta and see my family. I could go for about a week at a time. I was able to work remotely. The visits in the beginning were mainly just that, to visit. As my father’s disease progressed, it became more about providing assistance to my mother and being of service to my family.
These visits offered me some of the fondest memories I have and provided great time for me to share with my father. On one visit, he needed to buy a small, push mower for the areas of the yard that he could not get to with the riding one. We shopped and found a mower he believed was priced right and could get the job done. All this time, my brother assured me that mowers were pre-assembled and all that was needed was to put the handles and wheels on.
When we got home, we discovered this mower needed major assembly. Before my father had Alzheimer’s, I don’t believe he had the patience to work with me on such a project. But this time, I was the project manager and he was the assistant. It took us all day, but we assembled the mower. It was a great time to share. When it came to the very end, something was missing. I phoned my brother and he came over to check the work. It appeared that we were missing the final piece. He and Dad loaded the mower into the truck and took it back. Because of their trouble, the store exchanged it for the next model up. That model only needed handles and wheels assembled. My Dad and I spent all day assembling that mower, and it never ran for us. I would not trade that day for the finest riding mower in the world.
On another trip, we painted and reupholstered chairs for my sister. Some trips we would just go grocery shopping, get lunch or lay back and watch the Atlanta Braves.
Another great memory I have is when my husband and I went to spend a weekend with my Dad so my Mom and sister could go to Savannah for a weekend. My brother had told me that Dad had begun saying that he and John Smoltz (Braves pitcher) went to Greenville High School together. I had forgotten to warn my husband about this. After we arrived, we had dinner and settled in to watch the Braves. John Smoltz came up to pitch and my Dad said “ I believe he and I went to Parker High at the same time”. My husband looked at me so incredibly confused. I had to leave the room before I cracked up. He was so funny. My Dad stayed on that kick for quite a while.
After a while, we had to move Dad to a nursing facility because caring for him was getting too much for my mother. At first he kept asking us “When are they going to let me out of here?” As the disease progressed, he began to believe that he built the facility and all the people there worked for him. He used to tell us how busy he had been and how tired he was. He always seemed to be happy and in good spirits.
Now, the only real way you know if he knows you, is, when you go to leave and kiss him and tell him you love him, if says he loves you too. If he says thanks, then you know has no idea who you are. I find it endearing that he will not tell a stranger he loves them.
I am grateful for the quality time I got to share with him before the disease took him away. I am grateful for the influence he was and still is on my life and my character. Am grateful that I had the opportunity and skills to get a position that offered the flexibility I needed. I am grateful the people I worked for understood and supported me in doing what I needed to do.
The photo below is one my husband took the weekend were there and he thought he was John Smoltz' school mate.
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