Caretaking isn’t all bad. In fact, I enjoyed hanging out with my father both Wednesday and Thursday. Although he slept most of Wednesday, he did have his old spark most of the time he was awake. He was a little more confused about some things on Thursday, but that didn’t stop him from dishing out his usual puns.
Although it was great to interact with him, some of my favorite time was spent sitting next to each other while he read the newspaper. Even in his diminished state, he likes to comment on what he is reading. Sometimes he has a piece of news or trivia to share, but more often it is a snarky side comment. If I had to distil my father down to a single image, it would be him sitting with a newspaper in front of his face.
My father has always made me feel like reading together with someone is a social activity. Reading with him is, in many ways, the best way for us two introverts to spend time together. He somehow conveys that he is glad I am there, despite long occasionally long silences. And I have no memory of him ever expressing annoyance when I interrupt him to share something from whatever I am reading.
I suspect he isn’t as lucky. After all, he did have to live through my teenage years, which are the very pinnacle of parental annoyance. But fortunately for me, he doesn’t seem to hold my adolescent behavior against me.
In fact, now that many of his filters are down, he is apparently more verbal about his appreciation of me. During one of his frequent naps his aide and I got to talking about what he talks about on his bad days. The days when he is most confused about the year, his age or where he is living. Apparently, even when he thinks he is 15, he still talks about me.
I never doubted my father’s love for me. He never gave me cause to. But given that dementia doesn’t give anyone a choice of what stays and what goes, It comforts me to know that I am one of the people left intact. For now. Because no one knows what tomorrow will bring.