I wish I'd paid attention

I was thinking today about how my life has changed since the demon that is Alzheimer's has stolen my sweet mother.

Ever since I grew up and moved out, I've called my mother every morning of my life...yeah, I know, talk about your apron strings. But, it's just always the way I started my day and, while sometimes I resented taking the time to call, I was always glad I did.

The conversation always started the same way, I'd call and Daddy would answer the phone. I'd chat with him for MAYBE 30 seconds and then ask to speak to Mother. That's where the REAL conversation would begin. We'd talk about the issues most important to her and me, and we'd offer each other advice. Mine was usually the "take no prisoners and burn down the village" type and hers was always the much wiser, actually helpful "maybe you should try this" type. I always took her advice and everything always worked out. Fortunately for her, she NEVER took mine.

I can't remember when that conversation shifted to me speaking only to my father. I truly can't remember the day when I called and DIDN'T ask to talk to Mother, because, basically, mother isn't able to carry on a phone conversation now. At least not one that goes beneath the surface level. Mother's phone conversations now follow a predictable pattern. They begin with her saying "Who is this? Oh, well how are you? I'm just cleaning the house." My precious mother hasn't cleaned her house or cooked a meal in several years..those tasks are beyond her now.

Now, my morning phone calls are to my father, and they're just as predictable. Daddy wakes up at the crack of dawn, fixes his coffee, makes breakfast, and reads the paper. He knows I'll be calling around 7:00, so he waits to dress Mother until after he's talked to me.

I call and ask what he's doing and get the same daily rundown. I know his routine now, like I USED to know my Mother's. I know he has a cup of coffee first thing in the morning, then fixes breakfast and reads the paper, saving the Sports Section for last. After that it's time to tackle the task of getting Mother bathed and dressed for the day. I give him a brief rundown of my plans for the day and he always asks if the boys are up yet and what the dog is doing.

The conversation always ends the same way, with me saying "I'd better run and get my chores done." Daddy will reply, "Why don't you walk, instead, you might hurt yourself if you run." Then we sign off with "I love you's" and he always says the line that just breaks my heart and makes me hate myself a little more each day. The last thing my Daddy says to me each day is "Come to see us." Which, I won't do, if I can avoid it at all. My parents live in a special kind of Hell, where each day is, AT BEST, as bad as the day before and, AT WORST, even more horrible than yesterday.

I've questioned my father's refusal to put my mother in an Assisted Living Facility, and I truly don't know the REAL reasons why he refuses. Basically, I think it's rooted in finances and I also feel that he would be lost without having her to care for every day. It gives his life purpose and, I can imagine it's so hard to start a new life at the ripe old age of 85.

One thing is for sure, though. Even IF his motives are selfish, he is doing a job which most people wouldn't do. He's not doing it perfectly, but he's doing the best he can. I've always respected my father for many things, his intelligence, his ability to provide for his family, his willingness to undertake the raising of a niece and nephew, just to name a few. This last phase in his and mother's lives has given me a new level of respect for my father. We may not agree on the way he's going about it, but he's caring for Mother in a way that, truthfully, I never thought he was capable of. He's risen to the occasion and I truly admire him for that.

I still miss my daily Mommy time, though, and I know now, that I always will.