When my kids were infants I used to wonder what in the world they were thinking about. As their language started to form, and words were uttered I was delighted in their new found connection with the world. Tantrums and crying were just another way of expressing their frustrations and needs. The terrible two's made way for the three's and four's. Now I am in the teen's with my kids. It's basically the same tantrums and frustrations, it's just that we now look eyeball to eyeball, not in opinion always, but in physical standoffs. These last years, I have figured out the terrible two's. My dad is 88 now, and acting like a two year old. He has Alzheimer's. I am watching the clock go back, as he is loosing it all, sometime in little bits and sometimes in big chunks.
I remember hearing my kids make silly and absurd comments and laughing at them. "how cute and clever" I said often. When my frail dad looks at me and says "who in the hell are you" its not so cute or funny. The flashcards I used to show the kids to help them learn what things are called, are useful now. At breakfast the other day, he couldn't figure out what was missing on his plate. It was flat, and brown. We used the menu like a flashcard, and discovered the word he always knew, was lost. Bacon. The hardest "lost word" was ketchup. Ketchup and my dad, have always gone hand in hand. Its really how my mom and dad met, many years ago. Over a bottle of ketchup. In a mess hall of 1500 men eating a holiday dinner of ham and the trimmings, only one guy asked for ketchup. The staff, led by my mom, paraded down the aisle with a huge commercial tin of ketchup, held high on a tray. She put it down in front of my dad. Five kids later... every night, at 5:15pm exactly, my dad was home from work. At 5:30pm he was surrounded by two boys and three girls, waiting to eat dinner. We all had our favorite seats. My place was next to him. In fun, we would always dip our meat in his ketchup. He would go on and on, about who stole his favorite food, to the giggles of his mischievous kids. He just looks at the bottle now. That brings tears to my eyes.
I used to help my kids get dressed in their silly, not matching outfits. It was what they wanted, and I wasn't going to go to fashion war over it. My dad forgets what a shirt is, and how to put it on. Sometimes its backwards. It doesn't really matter. It certainly isn't cause for a fight. I've had to let go of the dad I once knew, and am getting to know the dad he is becoming. Its hard though, as he changes minute by minute.
My childhood home was a neighborhood urban legend growing up. It was where friends would stop by, just to see what my family was "in to". We had welding tanks, and pottery kilns. We had workbenches with balsa wood airplanes, and train boards. We had racing pigeons, and a mean duck that never quacked. My mom got Chester to eat the slugs, when all Chester wanted was our barefoot toes. Now, friends want to see the booby trap my dad set up to keep robbers away from his tools. Its a brick that sits up high, and when the drawer is open it falls and crushes anything in its way. He is quite sure that his grandson is the robber.
We ate lunch recently at Frosty Freeze, a special old hangout of my family. My dad was convinced that the gathering lunch crowd of day laborers thought we were movie stars. It was a moment of pretend that made him feel important. In my rush to grow and mature, I've forgotten how to pretend. He just reminded me again of the magic of being anyone you want to be.
My dad is in the terrible two's now. He has tantrums and throws food. He refuses to eat, doesn't want to use the toilet, or take care of himself. For any parent, we remember that stage. I just never expected to see it again. His life is rewinding, back and back, as I watch it all in reverse.
Now...would you please pass the ketchup?......I need it for my ham!
No comments:
Post a Comment