Well, first of, he was
just an awesome dad. Seriously. He was always ready with a
joke and a laugh, and ready to do something interesting, and maybe a little
pranky. I can remember him convincing me that after eating watermelon, he
could pull the seeds out of my ear. He took us on mystery trips where we
would have to figure out the clues to know where we were going; I’m not sure I
ever did figure out the final destination, but all the trips he took us on were
were so much fun.
He was always messing
around in his workshop, or soldering some sort of electronic thing together, or
inviting everyone in the neighborhood over to make ice cream or press apple
cider. He made so much apple cider that I still can’t drink it, having
had gallons and gallons of it growing up. He would sometimes show
up with a truck full of wood and a day later, there would be some sort of
awesome deck or stairs to a creek.
He never really got
mad, but I can remember during my surly high school years, when I got in a bit
of trouble, him struggling to understand what was going on and him saying “I
just want to know where you are coming from,” which really annoyed me at the
time, but now seems really endearing. He didn’t get mad, but he would
give you stuff to do, like once when I was in trouble at school, he decided
that I would just spread wood chips around the yard, and once I finished one
pick up load, he would bring another one. Weird that now a pile of wet
wood chips will make me nostalgic.
He just had such a
genuine interest in people and learning how to do things. He built an
elaborate train set in his yard, took so many classes just for fun, became an
expert at working with stained glass, loved walking trails with the dog and
whoever would come along with him, and just was a great guy.
Anyhow, I first
noticed he was having problems that might be Alzheimer’s around the time of my
brother’s wedding. A year later, when my parents came up to visit,
he had problems finding the hotel from my apartment just a few blocks away, and
I think it was stressful for him to be out of his normal
landscape. I think there were some signs after this that made
me realize it might be Alzheimer’s for real. I wasn’t really surprised
exactly, my grandfather had had Alzheimer’s, and so had one of my
grandmothers.
It was about 10 years
after the first signs until my father passed away. I guess for me,
it was sort of a delicate balance of trying to help and also respect my parents
independence and privacy, and all the other issues that come with trying to
support caregivers and being a caregiver on occasion, and trying to find out
where to get help and then suggesting getting help. So many
people feel like they have to do it all themselves or something is wrong with
asking for help, when it is one of the most human things we can do, I think.
At some point during
the last couple of years of my dad’s life, I discovered the Alzheimer’s
Association NYC marathon team, and sort of got it in my head that I was going
to it. Some of the runners had blogs about their training, but
their blogs were also about what their families were going through or issues
they were dealing with, and it was just amazingly helpful to know other people
were dealing with Alzheimer’s and hearing their stories.
This will be my second
year running the NYC Marathon, and while last year’s training was def a huge
help in getting through my grief over losing my dad, this year is about the
money.
More people close to
me have been diagnosed since my father’s death, and I have to consider that I
am at risk for this too, as well as the people I care about. I mean, we
really really really have to do something—research is critical, I think, but
having the resources to support caregivers and giving them options they can live
with is so important.
Supporting the
Alzheimer’s Association is something I do because I loved my dad, but it is
also so important because of the people I love right now. Run on.
Thank you, Kendra, that was really beautiful.
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