Parkinson’s

I spent a little over two hours with my dad today.

For maybe five minutes of that visit, he knew who I was.

I don’t really know how to write that. I don’t know how to sit with it, either.

Dad is in a memory care facility. He’ll turn 85 this year. He was diagnosed with Parkinson’s just over two years ago, and it has changed so much for him and for our family.

Parkinson’s is a cruel, disgusting disease. I’m angry at what it’s doing to him.

It had been seven days since my last visit. I usually try to get there more often. But even in that one week, the change was hard to take in.

Today, I brought both of my boys. My mom was there, too.

The boys hadn’t seen their grandpa in a couple of months. He’s been pacing more and seems more unsettled, and I was worried about how the visit would go. I was worried he might not recognize them.

But when he saw them, he was happy.

He knew who they were. For a few minutes, he recognized his grandsons and was happy they were there.

I’m grateful we had that moment. The rest of the visit was still hard.

The last couple of years have changed the direction of my life. I’ve changed careers. Changed priorities. Rethought how I spend my time.

And every time I visit, I’m trying to take in what has changed for him since the last time.

I don’t know what to do with all of it. I don’t know how to prepare for the next visit when this one already hurts so much.

I hope my boys understand what’s happening. I’m still trying to find the words for it myself.

If you’re going through something like this with a parent, I wonder how you’re finding your way through it. I’m struggling.

Today, I sat with my dad. My boys got to spend some time with their grandpa.

And I told him I loved him.