Dad

I don't know why but lately I've been thinking a lot about dad. Maybe it is the holiday season and that dad died right before Thanksgiving. Dad was a good man struck down by dementia the three years before he died. The last years I helped take care of him. The days that other caregivers were there I still went over and took him out for a ride, lunch, dinner or whatever. Loaded dad and his wheelchair in the car and took off. Sometimes people with dementia are more aware then we ever give them credit for. The most amazing wonderful and greatest compliment that I have ever received was given to me by dad on one of our outings. He was living in another time period when he owned a roofing company in Pocatello, Idaho. He was calculating how many shingles he would need for a big job that his roofing company had just taken in. Though it was hard not to point out that we were are in Oregon now I instead chose to just listen to him and go along with it. Dad looked up and said "Bill, I love being with you because you are the only one that makes me feel that I am here. Nobody else does that. You are a good son." Hearing a 92 year-old man with dementia telling me what a good son I was will never be forgotten by me or the manager of the restaurant that overheard it. She comped the meal and hugged me. Strangers passing sharing an intimate moment.

Talking about Pocatello made me remember a very funny incident when I was maybe 6 or 7. We lived in a decent neighborhood with good, bad, and annoying neighbors. We had a little kid living next door named Freddie who was just one of those kids that made you wish there was retroactive birth control. He used to come over to house and lean on the doorbell. Not just ring it, lean on it. It used to make Dad a tad angry. One Saturday morning we were sitting there and sure enough it was obvious that the doorbell was being leaned on. Dad said, "I'm going to get that little censored. When I get to the door you open it." Dad got down on his hands and knees and did the best darn imitation of a pit bull that you ever saw. Growling, barking, really loud. When dad got to the door I opened it, dad was still growling, barking loudly gritting his teeth acting like he was getting ready to bite. Trouble is it wasn't Freddie standing there it was two people handing out religious material. Wow did they take off fast. We never again had a member of that church stop at our door to recruit us. A good friend of ours that was a member of that church once asked why our address was listed in their material as a house for the missionaries not to visit.

I have three angels watching over me. Dad. My cousin Debbie that died of leukemia when she was 14. I was in college at the time and was helping her with math the night before she died. She had never been sick a day in her life. Next day she walked in the hospital without a pulse. The third is Aunt Ella that just died this March.

OK, Angels I'm ready to find a woman to settle down with. So get to work on that please.