Tag: dementia

An Epic Story

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Yesterday, one of my grandsons came over for the afternoon. We played a few games and then he asked if we could go fishing.

We picked up our gear, simple cane poles and bread, and walked a few blocks to a quiet fishing spot.

I had forgotten that one of my goals for the day was to tell a family story to someone. When one of the cane poles snapped in half, yes caused by a fish, I remembered a story.

The story was how his mom caught the biggest bass every caught by our family with a loud, broken rod and reel when she was a child. Over the course of the next 15 minutes I talked about a truth behind the story. Don’t complain about what you have…just use what you have…and do what you can. I hope the lesson is remembered for more than fishing. That idea is part of our family legacy.

A note. Sometimes a story is strengthened when other memorable things happen.

During the broken pole adventure, I looked at my grandson’s leg and asked, “What’s that on your leg?” He says, “It’s dirt.” I say, “Wipe it off.” He then wipes it off. I say, “Smell your hands.” He slowly brings his hand to his face and has a horrified look. I say, “Is it poop?” He says, “Yes it is.”

I am going to leave the rest of the conversation to your imagination, but as we walked back home, we practiced how we were going to tell the story to the rest of the family. When all the family gathered for dinner…. the story was epic!

Leave your legacy to the next generation.

The House with the Red Door

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My dad was a veteran of the US Army. I never remember him talking about WWII, but when I helped my mom downsize I found boxes of photographs of his life in the war.

He was a master sergeant and in charge of the logistics for his group. They traveled through Europe tracking and shooting down buzz bombs. He photographed every city and country they were stationed.

There were newspaper clippings from his home town in the boxes. My dad was one of four brothers. One of the articles stated that all four son’s of his mom, my grandmother, were serving overseas. The article spoke of my grandmother’s sacrifice, and it also mentioned that all of her daughter-in-laws lived with her while their husbands served.

60 years later my oldest daughter found the house they lived in and took pictures of it. It was for sale and there was a property description attached to a sign in the yard. It also had a red door. Imagine the conversations of a mom waiting for her sons and wives waiting for their husbands that took place behind that red door.

That is part of my legacy. The sacrifices of war for those who waited behind. All four sons returned safely back home. Today we thank and honor our veterans who served our country. Tell their stories of sacrifice.

A Printed Note

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My mom wrote many notes to her grandchildren. They loved the card and the note, but they could never read it because the writing was in a flowing cursive style. It looked beautiful. Eventually, but the grandkids could never read it.

I told mom that we all loved the card and then I would ask if she would please print. This is not a cursive / print debate. I write notes in cursive, but it was for her grandchildren to enjoy the note themselves without translation.

As far as I know, I never remember a printed note. When our family sees that style of writing today, we often say it is a Mimi note. It is part of my mom’s legacy. She wrote beautiful cursive notes.

But, it is also part of how I am learning to communicate. Not only do I want an attractive style, but I also want to be understood.

Communicate to be understood, regardless of how simple you need to express your thoughts, even if you have to print. Your kids and grandkids will enjoy.

A Hidden Legacy

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After discovering my mom’s dementia and Alzheimer’s, my wife and I moved her into our home. It took a couple of months to downsize her belongings.

The closet on her porch was the last place I cleaned out. Buried on the floor, surrounded by gardening tools, were four large brown cardboard boxes full of newspaper clippings. I had never seen them.

The clippings and photos were mostly from the 1930’s through the 1950’s. Dating, WWII (extensive), civic clubs, family, banking, there was even a picture that looked like the movie “It’s a Wonderful Life.”

I was stunned. No one ever shared these stories….at least to me.

There are several reasons for this blog. I’m still working on the ultimate clarifying theme, but here is what I’m thinking.

I want to write as many stories as I can so that my children and grandchildren know what mattered to me. And I want them to pass these stories (the good ones) to the next generation. I want to leave an intentional legacy that is not left in cardboard boxes or with the thousands of social media pictures that will be deleted when the storage is full.

I want to help you ….. yes you… the reader of this blog…. to have a healthy relationship with your children or your parents. It’s hard. You will need to be intentional. You may need to reconnect. You will need to listen and learn and love and show grace and forgive.

I want to help you leave a good legacy. I want it to be remembered for the next generation. Don’t be silent. Don’t hide your legacy. Tell it!

And I want to help you tell your parents legacy!

Hard Decisions

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When we discovered that my mom had Dementia / Alzheimer’s, I knew that she should no longer be allowed to drive. It is a safety factor. It will also be an inconvenience factor for me. My mom’s car was an older car and I immediately disconnected some wires under the hood. The next day she called me and said her car would not start. I went over and said I would take it to a mechanic and then removed the car from the parking lot. She didn’t ask how I moved it.

A week later I went over to her place and told the bad news that her car would cost too much to repair. The hard part of this decision was not ”killing mom’s car”, but the cost for me to become an occasional taxi or dispatcher of local transportation.

Parenting your parents requires hard decisions.

Listen and Learn

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When I discovered that my mom had dementia – Alzheimer’s disease our family prepared for the transition to bring her into our home. She lived with us for almost two years.

One day Mom said to me, “Something is wrong, but I don’t know what it is.” Tears began to fall and she repeated slower than the first time, “Something is wrong…… and….. I just don’t know what it is.”

Our family had already been working through the logistics, plans, doctors visits, and bathroom remodel …. but those words helped me to slow down and listen to her. I became more aware and sensitive to what she was going through. I began to see mom as a person and not a project. Our relationship began to grow. I began to listen and learn.