14th May 2006 – Not much of a life
Sunday today, so I managed in on my own, leaving the children with my husband. Dad was pleased to see me, but very down. Almost the first thing he said to me was “All through my life, if there was a choice of two options, I picked the wrong one”. "Not much of a life, nothing to show for it, what was the point?"
Whilst acutely aware that I had not enjoyed my upbringing, and having discussed it with my siblings, knowing that they didn’t either, I’d always thought – in my incredibly self-centred, blinkered, shallow way – that bringing up myself and my brother and sister must have been a constant source of joy to my parents and given them all the fulfilment you could ever look for. Apparently not. Apparently far from it. Now, I’m not sure who he thought I was when he was talking to me today, I can only imagine he thought I was my Mum, I hope he thought he was talking to Mum.
posted by Maximum at 9:48 PM
2 Comments:
I'm stunned by the honesty of this account of your father's dementia. It also terrifies me as who knows what's waiting.
I admire your courage and hope you can keep yourself going.
Incidentally my grandfather suffered from a sort of dementia and I was taken to visit him in the, then, asylum. I must have been roughly the age of your son but though it was horrific I think I learned compassion there.
Good luck.
8:51 AM
Angela - thank you for taking the time to read, and for your comment. I'm really hoping that some good can come out of this - that my son will be strengthened and made rounder by seeing what he sees. Sometimes I doubt myself, so your comment was particularly appreciated. Thanks again. x
2:56 PM
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