I can remember the trauma of having to empty out my Mom and
Dad’s house. My mom had died a couple of years before we were able to get my Dad
to move to Phoenix and be placed in an Assisted Living setting in a great Senior
Complex. It took a Herculean effort to get my Dad to actually leave his home,
which had become a prison and dungeon to be with Anne and me. I will never
forget my Dad’s response to my telling him he was moving to Phoenix and was
going to live with Anne and I. The bomb didn’t go off and Grandpa actually
packed his worldly belongings into a couple of suitcases. We left the following
morning for Phoenix from his home of 12 years on Dayton Street.
My Dad’s disease had taken its toll on his emotional and
mental state. He truly believed that I was out to get him and that the
President had hired hit men to erase him. I have many haha moments with my Dad
that helped me understand what Dementia does to a person regardless of age or
IQ. My Dad truly believed for a short time that I wanted to kill him and take
all of his assets. I avoided being around him in the mornings at home when he
lived with his for 3 months. He would remind me daily that I wasn’t his boss or
his father so why did I treat him like he was the son. I had to bite my tongue
not to laugh. Yet, looking back I can’t fathom the real fear that was there
which I had ignored. I initially assumed I could reason with him and with my
great persuasive skills change his mindset. I learned quickly that I had to
stop trying to fix him or reason with a mind that didn’t work. I had to love
him regardless of his ability to think.
I can remember when I persuaded my brothers that it was time
to empty out our parent’s home and let go of the house. I was blessed to have a
Mom that was a clean freak, incredible organizer and amazing cook. Yet, over
the decade of Mom’s cancer the little house had fallen into disrepair. My Dad
was the bookworm and horder that eventually saw his office or room be closed
all of the time. He forbad any of us from going into it. I hadn’t realized how
bad this had become until we attempted to open the door and realized that there
were mounds and mounds of boxes, books and papers blocking the door from
opening totally.
I had taken a week off from doing New City to see this home
of 12 years be reduced to 4 loads to the dump of ‘stuff’ and then furniture be
given to friends. We had boxed up all of mom’s belongings and transferred them
to a nearby garage that had become a storage unit for the parent’s worldly
belongings. I can remember driving away from the house on Dayton Street only to
think that life can’t finish with a trip to the dump or Goodwill.
It was six months later that I came out again to do the last
emptying of the garage and storage unit. This was almost just as much work as
doing the house. The boxes were stacked to the ceiling of the garage and then
the storage unit had their old stereo and mini-steam room unit. I can’t fathom
that my Dad had paid over $120 a month for the last 10 years to store all of
this? My Mom had pleaded with him to get rid of this unit but he wouldn’t
change his mind. Now we had the blessings of emptying it out. I can remember
seeing most of my youth tossed into a big truck. I know that most would say that
if you hadn’t touched something in a year then toss it. I know that it is easy
to say this, but very difficult to actually do this as tears rolled down my
cheeks, watching history being tossed. We had saved probably 20 boxes, which I
took most to my house and Scott kept some.
I know that life isn’t measured by how big of an estate did
you leave behind but a real life legacy that involves a person’s character and
passionate pursuits. My Mom was someone that had imprinted me with a passion
for being a helper that saw the needs of others and didn’t have to be asked to
help but chose to dive in before the word was given. I’m the people person type
because of my Mom’s bigger than life example. So tossing old dishes and even
aging keepsakes didn’t diminish the life gift of my Mom to me. She is the one
that taught me to love in actions and not just in words.
I will always remember our last birthday together. I was
blessed to be born on my mom’s birthday. What was interesting was that my Mom
had been given the impression that she was born the day after and didn’t
discover her real birthday until she applied for her Social Security. My Mom
went out of her way even with her pain from her cancer and the treatment to
tell me of her love for me and that she didn’t want any of us to feel pity for
her that she had lived a great life and knew that she would be in heaven soon
with Jesus.
Yes, sitting in the little living room with all of the
blinds shut and dust starting to take over my Dad wasn’t willing to listen to my
plea to get Mom extra help. He had withdrawn into his cave and was my Mom’s
protector who stood at her side to not let any more pain or suffering come her
way. He had decided to not allow any of her friends to see her the last year of
her life. He was fearful that anyone’s look of horror with my Mom’s condition
she didn’t need to see. I hadn’t seen nor heard my Mom’s secret pleas to help
my Dad because she knew he had memory loss issues even then.
Now, a few years later, we divide up the few heirlooms from
my Bennett legacy. I knew that fancy knives, Dog Tags or even wedding rings
wouldn’t bring back my Mom or Dad. I am thankful that one of the greatest gifts
my Mom gave us were lots of photo albums. These recorded the history of our
lives between different Air Force Bases. Yet, I struggle with how easy it was
to drive a few miles and leave my Dad’s clothes for another to wear and use.
I know that memories will last for eternity but in the midst
of pain and agony it’s difficult to believe that God is faithful but I have a
Mom and Dad would lived this so I believe! I get asked often how are you doing?
I really don’t know. I have been taught to hang in there and have a smile and
willingness to always to see life in a positive fashion. Yet, as I look back at
my life little did I know as a kid or teen that my mom would die a horrible
death with cancer and my dad would have a disease that would erase his memory
and make him incapable of being able to eat.
I know that life is a gift, which can be taken any day or
time. I’m also aware of my need to savor every moment so I don’t waste the gift
of life and time. I’m thankful I can sit down tonight and look through a photo
album of my parent’s 50th wedding anniversary and drink in the
memories of my youth and now reflect on my old age and the legacy that I want
to leave for my kids and hopefully for our grandkids!
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