OMG this blogging challenge is going to be a doozy.
My parents are enigmatic to me in terms of their relationship. I know they must have started out as a quite passionate love story based on pictures, but I never really saw much affection between them. I have seen incredible loyalty that defies logic at times, but is truly….incredible
My relationship with each of them has been very volatile at times, and at times, very good. There is sort of a before/after theme with them. Before I fulfilled, albeit partially, their expectations for me it was strained. Now that I have become educated, which was one of their expectations, we are better. Age also contributes.
My mom and I are best buddies, I tell her everything and I love everything she loves and am mostly in awe of all she can do and has done.
My dad is complicated. I guess for children of parents with some sort of dementia, mild, moderate or severe, the relationships are all complicated. My dad was an athlete, a scientist, a craftsman, a farmer, a framer, a hero, a drinker, a non-drinker inspiration to many, a friend, a foe, a jerk, and even at times an asshole. He had a tough upbringing, and that explains some of him, but not all. He didn’t show us affection in normal ways, but he did teach us lessons. Lessons on ball catching and throwing, planting seeds, washing cars, and generally doing jobs the “right” way. Sometimes now, when visiting, he is very affectionate, kisses on the cheek, kind words, and even though those are good, they feel awkward as they were so sparse growing up. And, the most difficult thing is, or I guess things are, that the man who to me growing up was the smartest man in the world, now struggles with names, faces, dates, and simple instructions. I hate Alzheimers. I hate it more than anything. I’d rather have my dad and his total person, with all his grumpiness and cantankerousness, than to have him be “not there.” The worst is that he knows that he is not there, so a bit of pride comes in…and I am impatient (like him) and it is hard for me to repeat the same information, or to answer questions when the answer, to me, is obvious. I also feel bad for my mom. Her only companion now is Fritz, her little dachsund. Fritz is great, but he can’t have an intellectual discussion (NO, he really can’t mom, although he is a genius) and my mom, whose mind is sharp as a tack, must feel some isolation. I’m sure having all of us close to her helps to an extent.
So that is my parents. Best memory: Skinned knee on walk with parents, dad put me on his shoulder and cooled my wound with his can of Bud – which I took for show-and-tell to school the next day. Mom re-enacting the pot scene from 9-5 with her girlfriends from work, and getting so skinny she could wear my Calvin Kleins and my Agner (were they hers?) boots….