My dad is still around, I find it necessary to stay in touch with him and talk to him at least once a week. Part of me stays in touch with him just to view the slow decline that occurs in a person when their mind comes and goes. Another part of me stays in touch with him because there is a fundamental need to have a father. There are good days and there are bad days. More often than not the days are bad and I do not recognize the person that I once called dad.
The challenging part of talking to him is knowing that the person that you once knew is still there but "there" is covered up by another person that has inhabited their mind. The new person is angry, paranoid, agitated and has no concise. The new person picks and chooses what memories will be brought to light and then lashes out at the listener and darkens the memory.
At times, my father lashes out at me and interprets a simple comment as a paranoid insult. He insists that he knows my thoughts and I have offended him with out saying a word. I often wonder if after we speak he thinks about what I have said and then begins to add paranoid thoughts to a perfectly innocent conversation. At first, I would become very angry and take his words very personally; however, I have learned to ignore them.
I try to hold onto the moments of clarity as much as I can. Sometimes he laughs at my jokes and is able to be my dad for a little while. I live for these days, the days that I can have a little glimmer of hope and picture what my life would have been like to have a dad. On those great days I imagine what it would be like to have lunch with my dad, go to the mall with my dad and ask him for advice. I wonder what it would be like to have my dad walk me down the isle on my wedding day. I then remember that I would never have that moment, I would not even be able to invite him to the wedding because of the outburst that occur.
On those days I see the glass as half empty and I try my hardest to move on.
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