The worker sitting behind the nurse’s station looked up at the front entrance door where the buzzer signaled visitors. She walked without hurry to the front and punched in a code on the keypad affixed to the wall.

She intentionally blocked the tall elderly man waiting for the right opportunity to make his exit. In one quick move, the visitors were ushered inside, the door closed and relocked behind them. The man, who was waiting, verbalized his disappointment. He just wanted to go outside for a walk.

The Decision

The walls were painted white with splashes of color from the art that hung along the well-lit corridors. Sitting in one of the television rooms were a few of the residence. There was a woman whose eyes were fixed on the tv and occasionally, she made random statements as if she was having a conversation with someone. There was a man sitting ever so still in a chair and sleeping soundly. There was another man sitting on the couch, his sneakers were off, and he was muttering gibberish. When one of the workers came in, she gently instructed him to put on his shoes. He complied and began to air tie his laces. He eventually got ahold of the real laces and tied his sneakers.

The last person in the room was my father. This assisted living memory care facility was to be his future home and that day was his orientation. I had told him quite a few times about this transition, but I was very certain he had not fully understood. He too was watching the tv, he smiled and then gestured as if the actor spoke directly to him. His chats with the tv people were not new.

There were multiple signs that his mind was slipping very quickly. My father thought he lived someplace other than his home. He believed people were coming into the home. He thought my mother was having sexual relationships with every man she encountered to include his aide. He perpetually smelled like pee because he hadn’t known he was wet. Sometimes, he hadn’t known he pooped himself.

Once Upon a Past

My father has since moved into his new residence. I don’t know how he’s really doing because he doesn’t say much. He looks old, frail, and pitiful. He falls asleep at the drop of a hat – almost narcoleptic. There are no more conversations. I don’t know how much he remembers of his past. What I know for certain is that his recent memories are very shoddy.

I look at those elderly men and women and my heart aches for them. I can imagine them during a time before this wasting disease started destroying their minds. I can see them living their lives and having full command of their past and present memories. Sadly, my imagination is in blaring contrast to them now – confused. I don’t know how much they know about themselves. I don’t know if they remember people they should know. At some point, they will stop realizing that they are forgetting.

I do not have a close or connected relationship with my father. The truth is if he wasn’t my father, I would have avoided him. Being his caregiver for the last five years, has made the relationship worse. Frankly, I am very glad to no longer be his caregiver. However, seeing him in such a state, leaves me at a loss for words to capture my thoughts and feelings. It’s not easy seeing a parent so debilitated due to age and illness.

The Present Loss

Dementia kills the person before their breath leaves the body. The family watches as the person becomes a living empty shell. No lights on. No one is home. The grief and loss begin long before death releases them.

One unspoken struggle for the caregiver is that we lose our primary role as the husband, wife, daughter or son. That relationship dynamic is traded in to become the parent – their everything. Loss is not just about death. There are so many situations that can trigger grief or loss. As each day teeters between gratitude and distress, the traces of the father I somewhat used to know is fading to nothingness.