Notes of a Caregiver

Today my dad turns 63. I celebrated his birthday today, by watching him at my house. My brother came over for lunch and we ate together like the days when we lived here together as a family. Thank you for all the well wishes and thoughts about him today. I truly want to thank those friends who remember the times we’ve shared with him, and often provide notes and memories on Facebook or email. I took a photo of my brother and dad today. One of the lucid moments I can remember of both my brother and dad together.

Today he does not realize it’s his birthday. I wished him Happy Birthday several times today, and each time he was surprised. My brother came by an hour ago to sit down and have lunch. After my brother left, I walked my father into the living room to sit down to music. I helped him sit on the couch and as I was about to walk away, he grabbed for my hand. As I turned around to see what he wanted, he looked me in the eyes, and began to cry. He reached out to give me a hug. And with that one act of kindness, I was transported to the days when he hugged me in his arms as a child. He would play Karen Carpenter’s “Sing a Song”, while he danced me to sleep. He gave me the biggest hug he could and said, “I’m very lucky to have good kids.”

Everything holding me together at this point, succumbed to the moment my dad had just given me, as I broke down in tears even more. It was recognition and his self admission of where he feels he is today. It was his bittersweet gift of both thankfulness and his own expression of sorrow.  Sorrow for the fact that he knows his illness has affected our family, and the regret that he has placed us in this moment. I gathered what strength I could, to say thank you in return. I hugged him as tight as I could, as I remembered how it felt to be in his arms, when I was 3, simply giving back the unconditional love he gave me as a child. I told him, not to worry. I told him that we will be there for him, and for mom. I brought up the moments I was most thankful for, the day he became our WPL Soccer coach, or the days he forced me and brother to practice piano, the days when he pushed me to pursue student government, or the days he reminded me to be a leader. I hugged all the while, as I realized I was comforting him just as much as he comforted me. This one moment, became all the more clearer for both of us. We were both in this moment together.

I love you dad.

Last week, my mom told me the results of his recent appointment. Current scans and interviews show that my dad is moving into the early 4th stage of Alzheimer’s. This recent evaluation is a flag that the most difficult times for my mother are yet to come. The late stages of Alz, render the person incapable of taking care of him or herself. The waking moments of laughter and memory become few and far between, and the time that remains for him could be a few months to a few years. It is during this stage, that his quality of life suffers most, and it’s during this time that the primary caregiver, needs the most help. I’ve told my mother that both my brother and I will be around to help. She isn’t alone, and the frustration she’s felt with people she thought she could get help from

The last time I brought up the things I miss about my father was over four years ago. I know there are many more things that I remember about my father that I’d like to share. This is my one way of keeping his legacy alive, and more importantly who he is for me, and less about the shell of a man he’s becoming.

I miss the passion my father had for anything new. He always told me if you ever wanted to learn something about life, it’s probably written in a book. And to that end, he collected book after book, signing it “Mendoza Library” on the inside cover.

I remember how my dad was the life of the party. Circling from group to group, cracking jokes, entertaining kids, sharing stories. My mom, often had to pry him from social gatherings, and parties. When I was 11, he asked me to dress up in a suit, and whisked me away to a San Francisco city function. I don’t recall the context, but he had me socialize with political folks within the city, Mayor Agnos, Chief of Police Jordan, key leaders in the Filipino community.

I miss his writings, how he was once in the Methodist seminary, and helped write sermons and speeches for friends, family and me. The “Genghis is my name, and Winning is my game” slogan which promptly won the position of Freshman class president, was his ghostwriting in action.

I miss his giving and volunteer spirit. He was the first to take on roles in the community that often gave back to other people. He was once a volunteer to counsel people going through grief from the loss of a loved one. He was also WPL’s 4th – 6th grade Soccer coach, all because I told him we don’t have a soccer team, because we had no coach. He jumped at the opportunity, not knowing a thing about soccer. He picked up books about the sport, taught it and learned with us. Needless to say our initial record in the fourth grade was losing a 0-1-7 record. He kept at it in the 5th grade and eventually brought us to a CYO playoff spot in the 6th grade.

There are so many other things I miss about him, but if you happened to know him and he’s influenced you in some way, I’d love to hear your memories of him. Please share…