It's been a running joke in our family for as long as I can remember that my Nannaw, one of six sisters and mother to one child (my mother, Jean), would often call my mother "MarthaMaryRachelRuthLenaJean" in an effort to hit on the right name at last. This happened from the time I can remember, and I'm sure that most of the time Nannaw was just being funny.
We love a good running joke.
Several years ago my father began to get my sister and me mixed up on the phone -- not a big deal -- his hearing isn't what it used to be, and it only happened when one of us would call them at a time when the other one usually did, so neither of us gave it a thought.
We took my parents to a play at church tonight, Smoke on the Mountain, and we all laughed and had a great time and just thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.
As the crowd moved slowly out of the doors of the Fellowship Hall, Daddy had to hold onto me with two hands on my shoulders to steady himself. Not unusual -- as evening comes and he gets tired he loses his balance, and crowds are very tricky. A friend of his approached -- someone I didn't know -- and Daddy said to him, "This is my...... this is my... this is my bodyguard."
We all laughed. The friend moved on.
Then I stopped laughing. My Daddy didn't remember my name. He didn't remember that I was his daughter. He didn't mix my name up with my sister's.
He didn't know -- for a split second he did not know -- who I was.
I am certain that the late hour, and the crowd, and the fact he was trying to hard not to fall all had something to do with this, but my father did not know my name.
It's impossible to explain what thoughts are running through my head right now, but the first is that I will go to their home tomorrow to mop their kitchen floor, and I will hear him speak my name.
I will. And things will feel better.
A place for me to get out of my head the Marbles that run through it on occasion.
9 comments:
{{Eleanor}} - just hugs and lots of love, sweet friend. Call if you want to talk.
((El)) That is something that I cannot even begin to imagine.
(((El))) Sometimes I miss my parents so much it hurts, but at the same time I'm so very thankful that I don't have to deal with tne hard truths of their aging.
Wednesday I told Dad I would stop by the cottage on the way to rehearsal, then things got out of hand at work and I ran out of time. When I called him on the way to rehearsal to tell him not to expect me, he laughed and said no problem, Mom thinks you've already been here today while I was out of the room. And she's worried about you because you looked tired. . .
It may not at all have been that he didn't know who you were. It's highly likely that his mind didn't have the either of the *words* for who you were at the moment, and that's a totally different thing. We're going through a lot of that.
The important thing is that he knew he wanted to be with you, he didn't feel out of place, and he knew you care about him. "Bodyguard" was a pretty clever social defense move, I say.
Do y'all have ANY idea how much you mean to me?
Marla, your comments especially helped me put this in perspective. Heck, he coulda called me The Assassin!
There ya go. . .
The more I get into this, the more I'm finding there's a huge difference between what is happening in their minds and coming out of their mouths.
If he had RUN from you, that would have been a totally different thing. ;)
Marla~ I seem to always follow you and say "ditto"
El~ The saddest day of my daddy's life was when his beloved sister screamed and threw things at him because she thought he was an intruder. He loved her more than his own mother, because she was more like a mother to him.
Thankfully, I haven't had to deal with dementia on that large of a scale - and I'm glad. My hat's off to you, Marla.
El~ Your daddy was tired. It happens.
These moments hurt none the less.
The whole idea of "taking care of" our parents is mind numbing to me. A rite of passage that I didn't think about or expect.
Together, we'll all get through this. I know it.
With love,
Scoot.
I read this the other day dear friend and I couldn't post a comment then, but today I can.
Marla stated it beautifully (as always) I agree! I love that your Daddy found a word that made you smile. I bet when he was less tired, he knew *exactly* what his bodyguard's name was!
I can't pretend that when your dear daddy smiles at you but cannot recall who the heck you are that it doesn't hurt. It hurts oh so much. Dad would stumble over my name, call me "pet", "sweetheart" and so on, but it never truly devastated me until he called me my mother's name, long after my mum had passed away.
But heck names.. I call my three kids randomly each others' names on a regular basis and whether he stumbles over actually uttering "Eleanor", don't think for one moment that he doesn't know that this is his daughter who he is terribly proud of, adores madly and who makes the best bodyguard around!
xoxo
On names, mine are "AntCar" for Andrew & Carlos. All the time.
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