Family Resemblence

“Letting go isn’t a one-time thing, it’s something you have to do everyday, over and over again.”

Beginning this journey, I knew it would be a tortured road. I could forsee watching my father slip away being hard on me. But truly every day, every time I see him, I must let go. Sometimes that is the easy thing to do. It is when I see my daddy, the man who helped me trim tree limbs from the 18 trees in my old yard or the man who took me fishing or on vacation or worries about me because I’m divorced; that is when letting go stabs at my chest like a fresh wound.

Ethan is a sensitive soul, a lot like his grandpa. Tonight after I arrived home from work, he was excited to ask if we could go to the store to get some Yu Gi Oh cards for his birthday. I wanted him to pick them out because I didn’t want to choose the wrong ones. Unfortunately, Sierra was working on a paper at David’s house and the other kids wanted to go back to my house to play a little before bedtime. Ethan was disappointed. In fact he was sure I had ruined not only his birthday week, but the entire month.

My heart yearns for both Ethan and my dad. I want to make them happy. I know it is not just the cards that Ethan is seeking because today is the first day he returns to my house after staying with his dad since Friday night. The transition can be hard, especially when there is a holiday (i.e. birthday) involved. It emphasizes how our family is out of sorts. And my Ethan can always feel that.

 Dad is just like him. I can remember Dad seeking me out when I would hide away in my room as a kid to check in with me. Some how he knew when I needed to talk. He watched me diligently after I broke up with my high school boyfriend. He would have personal conversations with me to make sure David was good enough for me. And he would always tell me how proud of me he was.  But now he just paces. He worries about things but can’t explain what. I don’t know if he is trying to solve world peace or he needs a drink of water. I wish I could translate for both of them. I would do anything to make them happy. I go to work as a labor and delivery nurse. But my job is to make people happy.

Happy Birthday, Ethan

Today is my son, Ethan’s birthday. I have bittersweet memories of this day. I will never forget the day he came into my life after I begged my midwife and friend, Lee, to induce me. And I will never forget his birthday of the year 2008.

His birth was not dramatic. I labored without drugs. My water was broken and we waited for labor to start from there. My husband, David, took a conference call for work in my birthing room. My best friend, Stephanie, stayed after working overnight and took care of me that morning. He was my only child with meconium stained fluid. I felt the contractions in my back mostly and in fact if David would press on my back it would almost take all the pain away. I took two showers for pain relief. At lunch time Lee came to check on me. As we were debating using Pitocin to increase the strength and frequency of the contractions, they became stronger. Suddenly I pushing out my first-born son. He didn’t get any of the meconium below his vocal cords and was able to avoid be suctioned. But when they were examing him more thoroughly they noticed a bubble under his tongue. One of his salivary glands was sealed. We would need to take him to a surgeon when he was a couple of weeks old and have it removed. And for the record we chose circumcision. As I left the hospital the mother of two daughters and sister of two girls, I was scared I’d break him.

The other birthday I will remember indefinitely is Ethan’s seventh. We had just spent the week taking dad on the trip to search for diamonds in Arkansas. We met David in Branson, Missouri, to spend some family time exploring and letting the kids enjoy the indoor water park for Ethan’s birthday. It was two weeks before David told me he was leaving me. When he arrived at the hotel, I noticed he avoided me, but the kids and dad were there. I assumed he was tired from driving or still mad from a fight we had earlier about my parents moving in with us. Dad needed someone around to answer questions but could dress himself mostly, bathe himself, and feed himself. He swam at the pool, but we cut the day short for him. We went straight to his house where my entire family, meaning sisters and families and mom, were waiting to celebrate Easter. After an uncomfortable meal, we took Ethan to Target and let him pick out his own presents. He tells me he will never forget this birthday because Truman peed his pants at the end of an isle and David had to take him out to the car.

I don’t know how to let go of the anger and disappointment I have towards David that I get sad thinking about my son’s birthday. An acquaintance that was divorced around the same time as me who is actually now dating the man who bought our old house told me it gets better when you are dating someone because you don’t feel so “tossed aside” or “broken.” My father now wears adult diapers because he doesn’t always make it to the restroom in time. He tells my mom he has 68 children. Yet this weekend he asked me if I will have another husband. I don’t want him to stay here for me.

March 31, 2008, we put our four kids to bed. We went two floors away from them. I looked at the man I thought I would be with “until death do us part” and I told him to say it.

“I’m leaving you.”

You don’t know what to say until you are in those shoes. My mind actually was blank. Dark as night.

“I will survive to spite you,” was my final response.

Today I survive, not because of that vow, but in honor of my father. I walk this path alone, but not really. He taught me so much. And I know he’ll be watching out for me. Telling me to trim those trees.

Out of the Mouths of Babes

I haven’t been able to write for a while. It hurts too much to think about it. I can say it, but not write it. He is so, so sweet. And when I remember that look in his eyes when he was looking at my boys…. it was admiration, pride, love. It filled me with love and peace. He was happy. I didn’t need to do anything more than stand two of the beings that I made with the man that loved me once upon a time in him presence and let him watch them and he was SO happy.

Then he was holding Truman’s hand walking away from me. Truly it was a shuffle. My mind bounced from the transaction in front of me to the fear of them getting further from me. I kept looking for them. Suddenly I noticed they were stopped, looking the wrong way. I ran over to them. “What’s the matter, Truman?”

“He won’t turn.”

I gently changed dad’s direction and told him mom was meeting him by the door if he could go with Truman that way. I scurried to get the wheelchair there because I could tell his energy was draining quickly. When I returned to mom, the lady behind her in line had tears in her eyes. Her mother had passed away from Alzheimer’s. She commended mom for bringing dad out.

We agreed to meet for lunch. I took the boys to my car as I watched mom assisting dad towards their van. As I started my van I saw dad standing at the curb alone. I drove up there quickly and ran up to him. He was looking around aimlessly. I put my arm around him as I spotted mom driving towards the curb and started walking him towards her van. She said,”He couldn’t walk anymore.”

“I know. I should have stayed with you guys until you got him in. I’m sorry.”

At lunch she fed him his french fries and shake. They left when he was overwhelmed by all the noise and movement. The boys were finishing their ice cream.

“Your grandma and grandpa are boring,” Truman said.

“Yes, they are. Do you know why?” I asked.

“Because grandpa doesn’t have Fate,” Truman responded. Fate is a computer game the kids play with David’s parents.

“Well, yes. That is part of it. Do you know why my dad doesn’t have Fate?”

Ethan said,”Because he’s sick and he couldn’t understand it.”

“That’s right.” We sat there quiet for a minute while they ate.

“Do you remember grandpa NOT being sick?” I asked.

Ethan replied, “Yes, one time when you and dad were both working grandpa was watching us. You put a bunch of toys in that blue box to go downstairs at our old house to be put away. He told Peyton and me to do it and when we didn’t he yelled. I went up to my room and hid under my sheets.”

Truman started to tell a story and I interrupted him. “T, you were born in 2004 and Papa was diagnosed in 2005. You don’t have any memories of him without him being sick.”

I thought back to Truman and my dad in the store fighting like siblings instead of like grandpa and grandson.

Ethan said, “I sort of wish grandpa would just die because he doesn’t really get to do anything and he’s sad.” Truman agreed.

Amazing my 6 and 9 year old and can understand the disease has won. I was very proud and sad at the same time.

Hallucinations

I told you yesterday my dad is hallucinating more. Someone asked me if this is common in Alzheimer’s. I don’t know and again my dad may have a different form of dementia. This is only diagnosed upon autopsy after death. They can only make an educated guess based upon the symptoms presented.

Anyway, the hallucinations are cruel. My father sees his room flooding when it is dry. He talks to people not present. He handles things not really there. If these things provided my dad comfort I would be at ease. But sometimes we can’t cross bridges because he thinks they are broke. Or he sees fire that isn’t real. When David, the kids and I took him to Colorado the fall he was diagnosed, he sat in his room in the cabin we rented in Estes Park believing there were women or angels in the room with him all night. He stopped being able to be anywhere but home, first his house then the rehab center, at dusk.

From the beginning I’ve always went along with whatever dad was saying. I agree with him because it builds him up and what does it matter if he wanted to believe I’m still married or we eat ice cream after every meal or it’s Friday when it’s Tuesday? And when or if he finds out “we” were wrong I always point out a time when I make a mistake in my regular life. Of course the man can’t remember my name but can remember the time I forgot my debit card. So we had to pay for our lunch at Sonic with the change in my car. For a month or more every time I visited as we left the rehab center, after he asked about my new car, he’d ask if I had money. Thanks dad. I don’t point out you forgot my name, but whatever. Truly, it’s the anxiety because he not only doesn’t have his own money anymore, he couldn’t tell you how much money he had if he did have money on his person.  (Thus why he doesn’t have any money. Mom broke down after this incident and let him have a small wallet with $4.00 so he can bail me out if necessary).

My friend asked me if I thought the memories were still in his brain somewhere  and he just couldn’t get to them anymore. In the beginning, I believe that was what was happening. As we near the end, I believe the disease is actually erasing the thoughts. But I take comfort in knowing they will all come back when he takes his last breath and God escorts him to the place where people don’t hurt anymore and they never forget the good things and never remember the bad things.

life goes on

It’s a Thursday afternoon in March. The sky is covered with clouds and the chill has returned. I just finished lunch with my sisters, mom and oldest nephew. We laughed and skimmed over the highlights of our lives. We are happy the meeting went well for dad.

Several friends have mentioned I don’t post on facebook anymore. My reality doesn’t fit there. While others are planning and taking vacations or monitoring college and pro sports, I work, love my kids and watch my father evaporate.

This morning I went early and fed dad half a sandwich and a bowl of ice cream before the meeting. Mom and Nancy had told me he was hallucinating more. But as I scooped bites of vanilla coolness into his mouth he was worried about picking up something that wasn’t there. He was wiping his hands that didn’t need wiped and his mouth with a napkin he wasn’t holding.

My dad can’t tell what is real and what his mind is making up. There is nothing I can do to make that better. There is nothing to make the anxiety go away because I can’t tell him what is real and what is make believe.

It’s a Thursday afternoon in March in the year 2010. There are so many things in the world going on right now: Haiti is still recovering as is Chile from horrible earthquakes, government scandals and broken promises abound, children are hungry and cold, adults are illterate and addicts. But to me the headline reads: You Didn’t See Him For Two Weeks!!!

A drippy nose, an expiring CPR certification, hosting a baby shower. They can all keep you away, but when I read facebook I know reality escapes me too. Is it a reason my husband left? Perhaps one of the many. The disease controls the entire family and changes lifepaths like a divorce, birth or a move would. Anyone who tries to live like it doesn’t is a liar to themselves first. But I am grateful for the time I’ve had with my dad. I’ve made memories so unique others would not understand why they bring a tear to my eye.

I don’t know who won on the bachelor or even what the bachelor’s name was. I don’t watch American Idol or Dancing With the Stars. But I can tell you what meds dad is taking, and Truman and when I work next week. I think that’s pretty good.

I figure whatever else I might need to know I can google.

A Good Laugh

The August dad was diagnosed David and I set out to fix up the outside of our dream home. We did some research because David is a research guru and this was something that attracted me to him.We decided to put top of the line seamless vinyl siding on our house. I could give you the dissertation why we went with this choice, but let’s just leave it with it is what we thought was the thing in our part of the country and especially our neighborhood that would last the longest. We lived in a nicer neighborhood with one of those awesome home owner’s associations. When we moved in we received the booklet of rules and even remembered that we were to notify the alliance of any outside changes to our abode prior to any work. If memory serves the same week I told Dave to contact “the people” to let them know, there was a knock on our front door.

The president and vice-president of the home owner’s association had come together to let us know that the thousands of dollars of work that had started on our house would need to stop. It hadn’t been approved. Also, if we would get out our by-laws we would see that siding was not allowed in our neighborhood. I started getting the nauseous feeling in stomach as I think of the bare outsides of my house and my empty bank accounts. I get the negotiator, the sales rep, David, involved. He asks what our options are. We are to go house to house around the nighborhood and get an 80% majority vote in our favor to amend the by-laws to allow siding on houses in our neighborhood. In August. Right after my dad has been rushed to the hospital for toxic levels of Dilatin and we are told it is not a stroke that causes seizures, but Alzheimer’s. Right before school starts. As David travels through the week.

We spend several weekends casing the neighborhood. I take a couple of evenings to try for as many houses as I can fit in between dance classes or whatever else I was running to at the time. Truman was little and didn’t like to be away from me so I would take the car and leave the air conditioner running with him inside. It was miserable. David and I discussed getting a lawyer.

During one of the discussions with the president I found out she worked for a neurologist. I told her about my dad. She told me, ” Something someone has told me is to look for the humor in the situation. It is a miserable thing, but if you can’t find something to laugh at it is just going to eat away at you.”

 And so sometimes we all just sit around talking about some of the things dad has done and giggled. To the outsider it could seem mean or sad. But as Natatilie Portman’s character says in the movie “Garden State,”If you can’t laugh at yourself, life’s gonna seem a whole lot longer than you like.”

This weekend my sweet, loving father hit an aide three times in the chest. It took four personnel to take him down and he had to be sedated. When my mom asked him why he did it, he swore there were 20 women coming after him and he was defending himself. I can’t help but smile at this. My father wouldn’t hurt a woman because he was not programmed that way. But 20 attacking him? He had no choice!

When he lived with me, Truman, him and I would go shopping together. The two of them would start fighting. It was very difficult to give dad the room to be an adult when he would turn into a child so quickly. I loved those trips to the store. But remembering those two fighting in the middle of an aisle, I giggle.

I sometimes just sit still, remembering different moments in this journey. Everyone’s life is marked with tragedy and loss. It’s how you come through it that defines your character. Sometimes when I feel like I’m drowning I remember Natalie Portman again in Garden State. Her character is required to where a protective helmet to work because she has epilepsy.
“What do you do? ” she says, “You laugh. I’m not saying I don’t cry but in between I laugh and I realize how silly it is to take anything too seriously. Plus, I look forward to a good cry. It feels pretty good.”

We got the majority vote and changed the by-laws. In the divorce neither of us could afford our dream home alone, so we had to sell it. But I smile because my dream house was too big for me to keep clean anyway. I guess I need more money for housekeepers or to stay in small houses.

The Great Outdoors

The deer are out in the fields most of the time now. It’s a sign winter is fading and spring is getting closer. One of my earliest memories of being in a movie theater is of me yelling at the screen “RUN BAMBI” as the shots rang out. I questioned my mother’s stability for bringing me to watch this tragedy. And I was reprimanded for crying so loud when I found out Bambi’s mother was dead.

The Fox and the Hound didn’t go much better. My childish mind couldn’t understand how those friends could become enemies. They promised to be friends forever.

Then the Sunday afternoon came after church. We ate many a roast with potatoes and carrots on Sunday afternoons. This meant peeling potatoes, and dad would let us watch the Sunday afternoon matinee with him while we accomplished this chore without a fuss. I really wasn’t understanding the storyline that well until I noticed my father had tears rolling down his face. I was too stunned to move or talk, I believe I was even holding my breath. Those tears made me scared. Dad didn’t cry. I don’t remember seeing him cry when his father died, but I was only three at the time. What about that movie made him so upset? I tiptoed around him the rest of the afternoon, scared to stir those tears back down his cheeks. My dad was the fortress in our home, a place to find comfort in the storm. If those tears returned, how could I be safe? Only later when I was introduced to the wonderful novel of a boy and his two coon hounds did I comprehend my dad’s compassion. “Where The Red Fern Grows” will always be sentimental to me.

My dad has taught me about wildlife probably since conception. As I’ve mentioned before, every grandchild has been comforted by grandpa by looking out the windows for the squirrels and rabbits.

One of my favorite memories of my cousin that introduced me to Dave prior to that juncture is when she came to Topeka for a visit. Dad took all of us hunting for morel mushrooms. Dana, my cousin, fell asleep when we got home while my dad was frying up the winnings from our outing. When she awoke it was dusk. She started crying, thinking it was morning and she missed her mushroom meal. I could of told her I’d make sure she was awake to eat her’s and my shares. I’ll find them but I’m NOT eating any fungus!!

I have just recently admitted to my father that on our first trips to Colorado, while he and my grandmother would be spotting deer and antelope all over western Kansas and Colorado, I would agree that I saw what they were pointing out only so they wouldn’t feel bad for me. Now it is daddy who pretends to see wildlife, though sometimes he’s looking the wrong way when he’s telling us he sees it, to save our feelings and his pride.

My dad loves nature and the outdoors. He loved to fish, hunt or just walk around and enjoy what God created. I’m thankful for everything he taught me about the world we live in. I wish I had more time to get the information out of him before it was sealed away inside the confusion. I hope my kids and I can find the answers some day on our own when we go on our own adventures.

The Golden Rule

I have a very simple view on life, really. It is what Jesus taught as “The Golden Rule:” Do Unto Others As You Would Have Done Unto You. I believe in taking care of the sick because we don’t know what they were meant to do on this earth. I believe in forgiving not seven times but seven times seventy because every morning I must wake up and ask God to forgive me for my sins so who am I to judge? I believe in giving your whole heart because that’s what you want back. Unfortunately, I get disappointed by these expectations. Other people don’t feel the same way and God made us to have free will so no one is required to live their life according to my law or His law. So I often see people hold back their feelings to protect themselves from being hurt. I watch money control healthcare. I watch people give up on one another and end relationships or quit working together.

As I watch my kids grow out of my arms and walk on those broken paths we are mending for them, I look around at what they are taking in as examples of how to be. I think of the example my father was to me. He was a faithful man. At work, with God, in his marriage, he was consistently present. He was compassionate. I remember him holding me while I cried with a broken heart and I remember him crying when he accidently hit a dog while we were driving home from grandma’s house. He stopped and stayed with the owner as he shot the ailing pup to put him out of his misery. He protected his family from as much as he could. I never heard about Vietnam until his diagnosis and when I got the nerve to ask in high school he told me there was nothing I needed to know about. He kept the truth about his brother’s addictions a secret until I was in middle school.

So what example am I making for my kids? What am I letting them see? I fall back to the conversation about David and myself. We continue to wrestle with one another like two bodies trying to get comfortable in the same bed as we settle into our new lives seperate from one another. Sometimes one of us “jabs an elbow” and the other gets hurt. It takes nice words and understanding to keep the sheets from getting thrown on the ground. Yelling doesn’t solve anything. It doesn’t fix a broken marriage. It doesn’t make the schedule conflicts resolve. It can only hurt the children and show them the wrong way to solve their problems. I often ask myself and him, ‘what is best for the children?’ or ‘what would they want?’

I think one of the most disappointing parts of my divorce is letting down my father, both my Holy one and my biological one. I have always hoped to be like my dad and he has stood by my mom through 40 years. Sometimes I questioned his reasoning, sometimes I even got angry at him for it. But in the end it was one of his most admirable qualities. David questioned me when I asked to try to reconcile if I was trying for the right reasons. He wondered if I was just trying to keep the pledge I made to God, and in part I was. It was that pledge that helped me through the bad days. It was that pledge that I wore proudly on my left ring finger.

So today I talk to my kids about dating. I tell them that my heart probably will never be ready to date again, but I’m now ready to see their dad happy again. I can’t suffer through breaking another pledge. But I hope to foster in my kids a healthy respect for themselves, for one another and for their ‘neighbor’. Then I can only pray that they are prepared for what develops in the relationships they nurture. I tell them almost daily that at my house we have to work as a team. It gets us out the door on time at 5:45 in the morning.

I didn’t make it 40 years. I can’t predict if I will raise my kids to be good people. And my bank account is overdrawn again. But every morning I choose to try again. I hope he/He (Dad and God) knows that.

Life Without Dad

I have forgotten what my life would be like without taking care of my father. I dedicated my life to that one June day in 2005 and I never really looked back except for briefly during the divorce. I couldn’t. He had always, always taken care of me. How could I not do the same for him? And how could I not be that example to my children?

We had whispered behind his back that he was losing his mind when he would stop talking mid-sentence. The pizza incident, when he let Sierra pay for pizza with change while he watched tv, was suspicious. But the day he and mom were traveling from their home in Topeka, Ks, to my house for my girls’ dance recital, and he pulled over telling mom he didn’t know where he was, was the day we as a family knew there was something not right. My father was intelligent. A computer programmer for the United States Post Office, he had been offered several promotions in different cities but turned them down after moving to 15 different schools in his lifetime. Yet after retiring early, he couldn’t pass the test to work on the turnpike passing out change that spring.

I can’t remember which of us bought him Daizy, his beagle, (remind me to thump that family member the next time I see them) but she was a puppy this same June. She got parvo and was very sick. The vet that my sister and I worked for through high school let dad come up and sit with her in the afternoons. I took the kids over to Topeka one day. We brought him gifts including a miniture stuffed beagle. We went up to the vet alone, just him and I. After checking on the ailing puppy, dad sat in the driver’s seat to get us home. Only he couldn’t start the car. He tried several times and had me look at the keys. He looked at me and said, “Please don’t tell your mom. It’s just these black spots. They go away.” He worked frantically for 5 minutes. It turned out he had been using the wrong key.

I did tell my mom and with that and the getting lost incident they made an appointment and confirmed it with me the next day. This began the whirlwind of doctor’s appointments, tears, and real estate agents. As mom prepared their house of 35 years to be sold and tried to transfer to the Kansas City VA, dad moved in with me during the week. This was only after he started a fire in the microwave. My dining room became his bedroom. Every night we would go over his meds, he would call mom and I would put him to bed with the kids. During the day Truman, he and I would look for houses for him and mom or he would go with one of my sisters. At Christmas time we moved them into their new home in Independence, Mo. Dad continued to stay with one of us girls, primarily me, during the day.

Dad knew the diagnosis was a ticking clock. There were things we wanted to do before we lost him. He wanted to visit all of the 50 states. He wanted to dig for diamonds in Arkansas. He wanted to see the leaves change in the east.

Perhaps we, I, spoiled him. I made him fried eggs every morning he wanted them. He said I made them the best.  I bought snacks and took him out for lunch. We visited the buffalo and elk in a refuge by Lake Jacomo. If he said he wanted to do something, I tried to do it. We took him to Colorado twice the fall he was diagnosed. It is his favorite place on earth.

I still do too much according to some. Others would say there is more I could be doing. This weekend I didn’t work and didn’t see dad as I tried to get ready for my oldest niece’s baby shower that I’m having at my house this week. My mind was a clearer, less rushed, quieter. He was always there. I was constantly wondering if he was doing well, but I tried to stay focused. I moved into my house in August. I finally emptied boxes and put some downstairs that were out in the garage. I made cookies for the kids.

My life without Ricky Stephen Graham will be something totally different than what I have lived so far. But I am so proud to have had these five years to give back to him. And I hope when he can see me from heaven with all his memories back, I can make him proud still.

Music Soothes the Soul

He called me his co-pilot. It was before the days of life saving/threatening airbags and even in grade school I would climb in the passenger seat to take the late shift keeping dad awake on long car rides. Sure he had his coffee and his cigarettes, but it was the company that helped him not only stay alert but keep on the correct path. From that seat I was his eyes and ears, looking for traffic signs, speed limits and listening to stories of his childhood and the golden oldies radio station. I would get drunk with the power of being in that seat!! We were the only two awake. Many times he would let me have a pop to stay awake, a special treat. Looking out at the stars so bright without the lights of the city to dim them, I felt like I could accomplish anything I wanted to as soon as the car stopped and I was able to get out.

I believe it was these rides and Heather G. in third grade that introduced me to music. Heather and I choreographed a dance to Michael Jackson with my pompoms and our teacher actually let us out of class to perform it in front of other grades. But with dad he would tell me what the song meant to him from his past. Or we would just listen to the words. Songs from the 60’s and 70’s had such meaning. My song with my daddy was “American Pie” by Don McLean. Perhaps this is where I learned to comfort myself with music.

It can sometimes be the words. I gave the words to Joshua Radin’s “What If You” to David because it explains how our marriage dissolved. I started every morning last spring with the song “A Good Day” by Priscilla Ahn to remind myself of what the day could be. The song “10,000 miles” by Martina McBride reminds me of my dad because he loved the movie “Fly Away Home and it is about someone dying.

It can sometimes be the rhythm. I couldn’t tell you what they say, but I love the beat of the song “It’s Tricky.” Much of the Cranberries music I fell in love with by sound. In fact one song I love so much I was playing over and over on my way to work when I still worked nights when I finally caught some of the words. I realized she was singing about a child being sexually abused. It took me almost a year to be able to listen to the song again without getting nauseous. I’ve also connected with groups like The Killers, Coldplay and Simon and Garfunkel this way.

And songs can become associated with situations, places or people. The Cranberries will always be a representation of Jake, David’s best friend and best man at our wedding. He gave us tickets to their concert for a wedding gift. Dan Fogelberg will always remind me of my sister, Beth. During our awkward preteen years she introduced his soothing melodies to me. “The Promise” will always take me back to the Big Island in a convertible with David driving at night and us singing together:

“If you need a friend,
don’t look to a stranger,
You know in the end,
I’ll always be there.

And when you’re in doubt,
and when you’re in danger,
Take a look all around,
and I’ll be there.

I’m sorry, but I’m just thinking of the right words to say. (I promise)
I know they don’t sound the way I planned them to be. (I promise)
But if you’ll wait around a while, I’ll make you fall for me,
I promise, I promise you I will.

When your day is through,
and so is your temper,
You know what to do,
I’m gonna always be there.

Sometimes if I shout,
it’s not what’s intended.
These words just come out,
with no gripe to bear.”

When I get overwhelmed, I like to slip my earphones in and block out the world. Songs can take my mood change. They can get me energy and hope.

One of Sierra’s best memories of my dad is sitting in their house in Independence one Sunday afternoon a couple of years ago watching the movie “Mannequin.” As the movie started to end, my dad went to the telelvision with the remote and turned to volume up so loud the windows started to shake. As the song “Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now” by Starship was blaring he said to her, “Isn’t this the best song?”

Some lyrics say it perfectly. In the song “Everything” by Lifehouse, they say:

“how can I stand here by you and not be moved by you?” because you cannot know my dad then visit him now and not be moved by how courageous he is for holding his head up with pride.

Paul Simon sings, “As long as one and one are two, there could never be a father loves his daughter more than I love you.” I change it to “there could never be a daughter loves her father more than I love you.” This song is on the Wild Thornberries soundtrack, a movie dad sat through with me and the kids the summer before he was diagnosed.  He told me he had a hard time following it, but I was still in the denial stage then.

But he truly said it best in Bridge Over Troubled Water:

“Pain is all around, But like a bridge over troubled waters, I will ease your mind.” This is all we can do now, ease his mind. What a privilege this is.