Dad had been on my mind the last few days, and it dawned on me that today marks six months since he physically departed our world. These pictures are from a memory on FaceBook which popped up from ten years ago, when St. Marys Hospital was honoring Dad for his years of service. I remember that winter evening well – it was a night of nasty weather, yet somehow we all made it to the dinner. Looking back, and seeing my Dad in this photo, I realize that the start of his Alzheimer’s was just beginning to slightly show itself that night. All I sensed at the time was a slight difference in the way he was engaging – something that felt like a softer focus, and something I just attributed to an extra glass of wine to help ease his nerves for the evening. Hindsight may not quite be 20/20, but it is clearer than what was seen at the moment.
He accepted his award and made a few of his typical jokes, and everything that everyone else could so would have appeared normal. Only I (and likely Mom) could sense the smallest difference. Some part of me understood then that things were shifting, (something I would see more clearly in later years) and I hurriedly buried the thought away at the bottom of my mind, covering it with the smiles and camaraderie of the rest of the night. That was ten years ago – and ten years is a long time, especially when it means the progression of a disease that slowly robs a person of who they are. Luckily, most of Dad’s worst changes came in the last few years, and even during that time there were still glimpses of the man we knew and loved so well.
This is the first winter we are experiencing without him. I thought it would be the holidays that were the most difficult, but Dad was never big on holidays, so they weren’t as sad as expected. Instead, the sorrow stings more on uneventful days like this, days when I might have spent a few hours with him in quiet and still companionship.
