This Morning

This morning, before I left to work, I taught my dad how to use the phone...

At 63, my father knows there is something wrong with him - something isn't quite right. But he can't put his finger on it. I can't quite put a finger on it too other than I can't imagine what he's going through. My dad has alzheimer's and it's progressively getting worse. I think of this beast like this: you've got this chalkboard full of stuff - good and juicy stuff, useless and stupid stuff - but alzheimer's is this eraser slowly swiping away the words only to leave you blank. Throw in a screetching run-through with your fingers (dementia) and that's what you've got - alzheimers.

Through my childhood, my dad was THE BEST teacher in the world! He taught me math and he taught me that anything less than your best was not worth it. My dad taught spanish in his high school years which proves his mind was multi-faceted - his mind was still there. So now I can't understand what kind of world so beautiful and effervescent and lively takes something so humanely natural away from you. I don't quite understand it.

Please don't ask me how my father is doing every 2 weeks. Please don't give me a pat on the back and say everything is going to be fine. Please ask him yourself - he's the only one that will tell you straight up how he's doing every 2 weeks. And I don't need a pat on the back or your 'everything's going to be fine' because it's not. And don't laugh at him when he makes a mistake - it may be funny to you in that split second or minute, but when you're exposed to it every single day, it feels a ton different.

This morning, before I left to work, I taught my dad how to use the phone. He mistakes his 3's for 8's.

Last night, he drove off in his car - he was gone for 2 hours. He forgets his glasses and can't drive at night.

He picks up leaves during the day. He counts them, these dry leaves, and he throws them in the green bin but not until he praises their ephemeral existence for one last second. One very last second.

He spends a good amount of his day folding jackets. Unfolds them. Folds them. Unfolds them. Only to hang them an hour later.

This morning, before I left to work, I taught my dad how to use the phone - first time I cried in a long time.