Grief

Anticipatory grieving is the natural reaction to the possibility of an impending loss, such as the death of a loved one.  This phenomenon occurs before the actual loss of life.

Back in 2021 I moved my parents out of their house and into assisted living.  Upon arrival to assisted living, my dad (living with Parkinson's) was having a hard time.  I think the move was hard on both of them, but for different reasons.  

My Dad's brain completely short circuited.  He always kept his medications in a little plastic box and they were all mixed up.  He would self medicate and take whatever he thought he needed when he wasn't feeling right or Parkinson's was acting up.  When he moved into the ALF (assisted living facility) they started giving him his medications as the prescriptions were written.  I think it temporarily fried his brain and compounded the issue by being dehydrated with a UTI (urinary tract infection).  He probably weighed 100 lbs and was in the hospital.  I thought he was going to die, as did the hospital workers.  I sat with him while he was in and out of consciousness and held is hand and talked to him.  Cried a lot.  Somehow at that point I realized how old my Dad is and how fragile his health was.  Not knowing if he was going to recover, he was put into hospice care.  I checked him out of the hospital and had his room moved to a memory care facility because the resident care ratio was like 5:1 vs 50:3 or something.

When he got to memory care he was hallucinating and was in an altered state of reality asking for his parents.  Thinking the year was 1955 and he was at the courthouse.  He had no idea where he was, what year it was, yadayadayada.   By the grace of God he managed to recover.  From the time he went into the hospital to the time he graduated from hospice was like three months.  

That time was trying.  Confronted with making decisions I never thought I had to make for him and dealing with the realization that it is not a question of it he was going to pass but how soon he was going to pass.  Social workers were asking about funeral arrangements, burial plans, asking him what he wanted and all kinds of things that I was neither mentally nor emotionally prepared to deal with.

Going through that season of life changed me.  While in the hospital I told him it was okay for him to leave if he wanted and Mom, I and my sister would be okay.  I asked him if he wanted to see Grandma and Grandpa and other family members.  He never answered.  Having that one sided conversation with him allowed me to say goodbye and accept his crossing to the other side.  It brought resolution to the emotional turmoil and hurt in seeing my dad struggling for life.  It's when I said goodbye.  And maybe that's wrong.

At the darkest point, he turned a corner and pulled through and recovered strong than he had been in years, even to this day.  My Dad is a determined and stubborn man.  He is also a very caring man.

Growing up, my Dad and my Grandpa were my heroes.  As I aged, our relationship became strained.  I was a rebellious jerk and dropped out of college.  Confronting every aspiration my Dad had for me and flipping it - opting for the life of a working stiff, girls and fast cars.  Once I grew up we became the best of friends - once I got my head screwed on straight, got a real job and eventually settling down and marrying my wife.  I inherited his determination and strength and caring values.

As he continues to age, I see the flaws and human-nes of my first hero.  And sometimes it's a tough pill to swallow.  His competitiveness when there's no reason to compete.  His fear of missing out (FOMO) over some of the most trivial things in life.  They way he manages to 'work' a situation contrary to what was originally agreed upon.  Seeing judgement and disappointment he has harbored against my sister and her now deceased husband.  Every time I call him, the TV is blaring.  I just want to hang off the phone and keep calling until he turns the volume down.  The well spoken executive that wants people to visit yet he won't initiate or reciprocate in conversation.  The fierce independence he has in doing thing himself when he doesn't accept any assistance.

Feeling the pressure he puts on me to do things I am either not comfortable doing or unwilling to do because I don't want the liability of keeping everyone safe.  But it's the same as having kids.  No.  It's not.  Because if a 2.5 foot tall kid falls in the parking lot it's a bump and they get up and go about his life like nothing happened.  If a nearly 6 foot man falls in the parking lot, there's a high probability there will be a skin tear and broken bones or other injury.  Picking him back up and carrying him isn't an option - instead it will turn into an ambulance ride to the hospital that will cost 5 thousand dollars or something ridiculous.The bathroom accidents that don't stay in diapers and become an event of their own.  No, it's not the same as having kids.  Or having conversations with my Mom while my Dad was at his lowest and she tells me she "doesn't think she can be married to him anymore."  Like are you crazy?  What other option is there?  Divorce?  Then what?

What bothers me is seeing the struggle and witnessing the aging process first hand.  Knowing the aches pains and struggles I have at the age of 54 and seeing what lies ahead is something I don't in my consciousness.  I am disappointed in myself for being frustrated with my Dad while he struggles and being unwilling or incapable of being more accepting and loving of the situation.  Very disappointed in myself.  I wonder if my dad shares the same feeling.  Many priorities competing for bandwidth.  Wife, family, college age son, freshman son, work, self care and parents, financial pressures and sister.

Dealing the disappointment that as of now, this is my life.  While some parts of it are very fulfilling, others are quite disappointing.  

As of now, I think the mid to late forties and the first year or two of the fifties are one of the best stages of life.  Life is no longer fancy free living life at 100 miles per hour in a corvette with your hair blowing in the wind.  Instead, you start losing your hair, carrying some additional weight of responsibilities, fat and life is suddenly more serious.  The realization that my and my dad are 27 years apart in life.  When I got married, I was 27 years old.  My Dad was 54 years old.  Now I'm 54 years old and my just turned 82.  I'm the same age as my Dad when I got married.  

I wonder if my Dad felt the same then as I do now.  His Mom was sick and on her death bed.  He was at the pinnacle of his career.  He was putting on some pounds.  What different is while he was 54, I was 27.  Now that I'm 54, my kids are 22 and soon to be 15.  I guess I got started later than he did.  Which means as my kids get off on their own and have kids, I will be older than he when/if I me and my wife are blessed with grandkids.  

Shut up already.