It has been over a year since Dad had his stroke. He actually just had his one year anniversary in his current nursing home. This poor man has had so many ups and downs this past year. Currently I would say he is in the dumps. About 2 months ago he started acting out, yelling, name calling and hitting and pinching the nurses. He had just started a new medication so that was immediately discontinued hoping that was the cause and stopping it would stop the behavior. It didn't seem to help. He started on new medication that seems to be making a little bit of difference but he is so confused. He still thinks he lives in West Virginia most of the time and doesn't believe he sold his house there. "I know I didn't; I would never do that." Fortunately he still recognizes us. He just doesn't remember when we visit.
Over the past year Yvonne and I have been cleaning out his house. It's amazing what you can learn from what somebody saves. Dad was a saver. Ok, Dad was a hoarder. But he was also a sentimentalist. I think the man kept every letter ever sent to him. He had a collection of binders that housed various bills, account information, project lists, work related stuff, etc. You name it, he kept it. I think he kept every pay check stub, every correspondence. He had a stack of return envelopes, the kind that a company sends to you to return your bill payment? He kept 'em. I even found my baby teeth. Yes, the tooth fairy has finally been located.
He was also generous. He donated repeatedly to several charities. In exchange for his donation, he would get a set of address labels or personalized note pads. Yep, he kept all of those too. He loved filing cabinets. I think I emptied out at least 3. I couldn't quite figure out his system for filing but he had it organized in his own style. He loved zip ties, Velcro and duck tape. He liked Sam's Club. If it could be purchased in bulk, it was. I believe his personal motto, and not just related to bulk purchases, could be "Go big or go home!"
He loved the USA, was a strong Republican, and very patriotic. Because of him I learned the importance of standing for the singing of the National Anthem and doing nothing but focusing on the flag while saying a prayer of thanks for all the men and women who have, and are, serving our country.
Pilfering through his belongings and personal stuff was eye opening, humbling and sad. This man had a sad life. He had a not so good childhood. His mother died when he was 4 or 5. He was sent to live with the "wicked" stepmother, shoved off to boarding school and then entered the military at the age of 18. He served two tours in Vietnam as well as Korea. He served this country for 20 years. He was married for 14 years or so before he became a widow at the age of 38. He had three children. Memmi (from Mom's first marriage) was 18, I was 7, Yvonne, 6. He was an alcoholic. After Mom died he spiraled into a dark hole. He lost his children for 4 years. He retired from the Army and then worked odd jobs. He finally got his life on track and quit drinking and quite smoking. He has been sober for 25-ish years. He remarried, we moved back in, he had a step daughter and then another daughter. He got a good job with Motorola and the work included a lot of travelling. I think he enjoyed it at first but then it started to wear on him. Motorola would fly Dad where ever the job was but he almost always chose to drive. He liked seeing the good 'ol USofA. After 17-ish years of marriage he was divorced.
He was not without his faults and he knew that too. He made mistakes and some pretty big ones; none that I feel obligated to share. I think he has been wrestling personal demons for most of his life. I have had my personal share of grudges against him but over the past year they have just faded into pity for the man. He moved to Michigan 4 years ago to start over, I believe. To try his hand at happiness again. After moving here he had a couple of major events going on in WV that he had to deal with. I think he kind of slumped into a depression. He slept all the time. It was hard to see this. I was so busy with my life that I didn't really try to be part of his. And that goes back to grudges. I wanted some apologies and change. I wasn't ready to let go and forgive. And then he had the stroke. One day he left his house by ambulance and hasn't been back since. Since the stroke I kind of feel like this was God telling me that I needed to forgive and to reconcile. When he lived in his house I could go months without seeing him and weeks without talking to him. Now I see him weekly if not more. The kids love to go to the nursing home to visit him. Max is so good and understands that Grandpa's brain isn't working right. Those of us that know him well know his brain has never been right :-) I can say that because I know for one, he would agree, and two, he would laugh at that comment.
All kidding aside, I hate the idea that he is going to live out the rest of his life in a nursing home. He is unable to do anything for himself except to eat. What kind of happiness is that? He spends the majority of the time in his bed- sleeping or staring at the tv. I know how I feel about his life but I wonder how he feels about it. Was there more sadness than happiness? Does he feel like he accomplished what he wanted? Did he have dreams? Did he love? Did he feel love?
I can't change the past and I can't make him walk again. So for now we just make him happy with the little things, like banana splits and butterfingers.
