The Reality Of Dementia

I'm sharing with you what is the emotional progression of a family dealing with Dementia. My father was diagnosed with FrontalTemporoDementia in late March of 2004 at the age of 60. This is from my point of view as his only son, who loves the man who raised him, as the condition, and Life, moves ahead.

Thursday, September 28, 2006

Have I Told You Today...

... that I love you?

Those words were uttered to me every day of my life, for as far back as I can remember, from my dad. He usually had told me by that time, but it's always a great way to put a day into perspective. Tell your closest people that you love them today, and tell them tomorrow. Put it on Repeat. Let that sentiment ring through your life. Love, as a verb.

I have been receiving some great stories about my dad's childhood from his friends in Georgia. In my head I imagine so much of his youth being played out in black and white, since all the TV shows from that era came across in those colors. He and his friends did a lot of "Boy Power" projects. Building their own baseball field, complete with dugout. A garage-based radio broadcast booth, hunted down and shut off by the FCC. General mayhem.

My dad's condition progresses, his ability to talk nearly all but gone. I still have dreams where he and I are standing near one another, and he's talking from the side of his mouth, giving me advice as we stand aside from a situation that serves as "the bad example," the "what not to do." My dad's advice in my youth was simple: Be careful because some people aren't, save 10% of every dollar you earn, love 'em all, have fun, and I Attract To Me That Which Occurs In My Life.

All of those things were constants in my learning, too. Not the school-learning that I have long since forgotten. I mean the learning that I have read, heard, and/or had info-mercialed into my cortex late one night by some "industry expert." Every time, it comes back to those principles.

Trust your gut, think Positive thoughts, be good with your money now so it's there later, play loose, and be a walking advertisement for Friendliness.

Thanks, Dad, more than I can ever tell you. Love ya.