May 17, 2024
I am and always have been a storyteller. For years I’ve been saying that someday I will write a book with the title “Every Silver Hair on my Head”, because I’ve learned so much in my many years on this planet and there are so many lessons learned to share. While this is not book, who knows where all this writing may someday land?
I feel compelled to share lessons learned in the hope that somebody who needs to hear them will recognize that they are not alone. We all have stuff to go through, and while my stuff may not be yours, the lessons learned from experiences over time will undoubtedly resonate.
And if nothing else, I hope I can entertain – I’ve been told my writing engages!
Thank you for joining me on the ride as I endeavour to traverse experiences and suss out the lessons learned. They will all be rooted in Resilience because that, my friends is what I know… how to pick myself back up, dust myself off and carry on – even in the most trying of times.
Let’s start with this week. This week was tough. We had to panel my almost 90-year-old dad for long-term care. He is currently in an Assisted Living facility (that he loves) but it has become apparent that his needs have outgrown what they can provide. The endless phone calls from early in the morning to late in the evening range in theme from “<confused tone>I don’t know where I am or what I should do now.” to “<crying> I need help – there is a man here who has keys to every suite and I am afraid.” The calls come while I am on the phone with prospects and clients… while my brother is in court or a meeting… when we are out for dinner with friends. And oftentimes he is inconsolable.
My Dad was a legend. As a friend recently said of him “He was always larger than life”. He was a CPA, a hyper-achiever who thrived on his work knowing he was a great provider for his family, had a super active social life with my mom and their friends, traveled literally across the globe and volunteered tirelessly in his community. Always a joker, we all inherited his penchant for finding humour in most things. We always laugh a lot.
Now, he is an 89-year-old widower who can no longer count money, let alone keep track of it in his pocket. He insists that he continues to work every day – but work now is sorting through the items in his increasingly empty drawers (empty because he keeps throwing things away not remembering what they are). When we encourage him in his loneliness to participate in activities we hear “I’m not social, I’d rather stay in my room”. He can’t remember what he wanted to tell you in just the time it takes for him to tell you he has something to tell you, often mixes me up with his mother or mine, and has zero recollection of even the best memories that he used to always share with us.
When I came to visit the other day, Dad was quite befuddled and bordering on a breakdown. When I asked what was going on, he said he really needed to work on his computer but he was confused. You must understand that first, I had to test what ‘computer” meant because sometimes it’s the phone or the television or the iPad….because he’s lost so many words. When I reminded him that he hasn’t had a computer since October (when we stealthily removed it while he was in hospital) he asked where it had gone to. I told him it wasn’t working and he’d forgotten how to use it so we took it out. He asked how he’d do his work. I asked him to show me the work he needed to do and he handed me the paper in his hand. It was the weekly menu and activity list from the facility.
If you’ve ever seen the movie The Father with Anthony Hopkins, my life is a lot like that daughter’s life right now. As the movie description provides: “A man refuses all assistance from his daughter as he ages. As he tries to make sense of his changing circumstances, he begins to doubt his loved ones, his own mind and even the fabric of his reality.”
Remember when you became a parent and realized that the kidlet didn’t come with a How-To manual? Parenting one’s parents is no different. A few years before she passed, my mom bemoaned to me “We never wanted to be a burden on you children.” I am not sure what well I drew from in that moment, but without missing a beat, my response was “Mom, you took care of your parents which taught us to take care of you. If you deny us this privilege of taking care of you, how will our children know how to take care of us?” So I am going from memory, gut and instinct in knowing my parents wishes overall. And hoping my daughter is paying close attention…
To see your parents living a life they told you over and over again they hoped they’d never be living in their golden years, is so emotionally draining. Through losing my Mom (first to Alzheimer’s then to her passing) and now my Dad’s situation, I still have to work at building my business, balance work with my joy of painting and be emotionally present for family and friends.
Never wanting to leave things on a sad note…. When my mom was in her later stages of Alzheimer’s there were many conversations that were hilarious, and she’d laugh at herself a lot. Those are the stories and memories I choose to hold onto from the time of her illness. And although it seems like there is a lot of sadness around my Dad’s current situation, I am finding the shared moments of laughter with him that I will be able to hold onto when I can no longer hold him physically.
A sample of my dad’s humour: Since the fall 7 years ago that left him with a severe concussion and put him in a wheelchair, his memory has been tenuous at best. He started to joke that he has a new name – Shawn Ferguson. Why that name? Because in Yiddish “shoin fergessen” means “I’ve forgotten”. So every time he forgets anything now, his default go-to is “Shawn Ferguson has spoken!”
– Lessons learned here include:
· Laugh. A lot. It makes everything feel a little less heavy
· Remember to hold onto the laughter – it’s much easier than holding all the sorrow
· Watch how your parents care for their parents, because there’s no manual to teach you how to take care of yours
· Maintain your balance! Don’t forget to keep elements of joy close even in sorrow