"It's all good" is a phrase my son used to
say a lot a few years ago. It kind of means "that's fine". I liked
the saying, because I like the idea that it's
all good! "Hey, sorry I didn't call you back"--"it's
all good man!" That type of thing. No sweat. No problem. It's fine. It's all good. Looking over my
blog posts I feel like they have been mostly about the hardship and negative
side of caring for dad. And don't get me wrong, it's been no easy road. But I'd
like to share some of the good things that have come from it. It might not be
all good, but it hasn't been all bad either.
I want to talk about two things in particular, that
have to do with time. The first is that I have the time to spend doing things I
was too busy for before. One of those things is more time to spend with God,
reading the bible and meditating on it. A key to my
mental well being was seeking God and looking for his presence and purpose in my
situation. I can honestly say that it deepened my faith, but it also taught me
a lot about myself and how God can change me to be more like Him through my
circumstance. If I'm paying attention. And that's key.
The other thing I learned in relation to time is that
we only have a finite amount of it. Most of us don't really think about that so
much. But when you're around someone who's time is running very short, it sort
of becomes a dominate theme!! Though that is looming large, the lesson for me
here was to really listen to my dad and his stories. I've had precious time to
hear my dad's stories. The memories from his life. Alzheimer's robs them of short
term memory first and then more slowly erodes their long term as well. Dad is
in mid stage and still has pretty good memories from his past. In the beginning, he would repeat these same
memories over and over again to the point I found it annoying. And then I started asking people "did I already tell you that??" It's one of the hazards of living with someone who's memory is failing--you start to wonder where yours has gone!!
One morning
during the time I spent with God, I felt him speak to me about my attitude
toward dad and his stories. That night during dinner dad began a story I had
heard already earlier that day. I turned to my husband and did the eyeroll. My
husband did something I'd never seen, or at least never registered before. Instead of uh-huh-ing my dad he asked him a question about his story.
Now we both knew the answer to that question, but dad's eyes lit up and he told
that story with gusto! I heard that still small voice tell me to hold on to
that. To learn from it. My husband was valuing my dad and his memory. I needed to do the same. I learned to listen to his stories as though I had
never heard them before. I was attentive, not annoyed. I asked questions
instead of saying "you already told me that!" I valued them as a part
of my dad. Memories of the man who's time was now short.
As time went on I began to realize these stories would
die when he did. So I began to write them down. I got this bright idea I would
would write them down and illustrate them in a nice journal, so I began to
write them down. He doesn't know that he's told us this stuff for the 847th
time. He's thrilled for someone to listen to his stories. These are his life.
What he remembers of it anyway. As I recorded them I realized they were more than just
memories. He remembered these particular things for a reason. They have meaning
to him. Recording his stories, his memories, has really enriched the time I
have with him. It turned a situation that has been troubling (it reminds you
when they repeat things that they are slipping) and irritating (I cant
help it, I'm human) into a way to know my father better. I understood that
these stories were his view of life. They are of adventures and friendships. Of
my mother and our lives as a family. His childhood, and travels. They are what
he's left with. And while that may be sad in one sense, it is a blessing to
still have him around with the ability to tell these stories. It is an honor to
be able to save them and use them in my art. And when I realized their value
instead of viewing them as a symbol of his failing mind, they changed me. I was
so wrapped up in the sadness of the repetition and that he seemed to only
remember the past, that I was missing the now. The blessing in the here and
now! And the blessing of being able to share in and record a well lived
life.
You see, what we feed is what will grow. If I had fed
that irritation, that dismissal of the memories he had left, I would have
robbed us both of a priceless gift. I'm glad God gave me the insight to slow
down and take the time to cherish these stories and give them the importance
they deserve. To honor dad by listening each time as though I'd never heard it
before. To let him tell his stories and remember his life. The good and the
bad. To mine this rich history that is part of my history as well.
So I am
journalling these slowly, with intention. Occasionally he will tell one he
hasn't for a while and that I don't have down yet. I will scramble to write
them down, often on a scrap of paper if we are out, but I make a way to record
them. I have many pages and loose scraps that I have to get busy and put in the
journal. After I understood the lesson God was trying to teach
me, a verse in the bible reminded me that this whole journey has a purpose. Its
a commonly known verse. Romans
8:28 And we know that in all things God works for the good of the who love him,
who have been called according to his purpose. If we take the
time to ask God for the lessons and pay attention to His answers we can find
the good in every situation. That's my biggest take away from all this. There
is a reason, a plan. For my good. For dads good. So, you see, it is all good.
