You’d think I’d be at peace in this place. You’d think from practice it would get easier. It doesn’t. The waiting and wondering is gnawing. It’s like a constant vigil, this watching as my Dad withers away.
I’ve thought and thought about writing a blog on this whole dying process. From reading the daily notes in my journal, my husband recommended I wait. Wait until emotions die down and I have a full retrospective view. But while it’s fresh, while we are still in the throws, I wanted to post.
Forgive me if I’m too blunt. I feel raw. There is nothing pretty about this dying with dementia. It’s ugly and degrading. The only beauty I can find in the whole thing is in the care given and in the grace God offers our family moment by moment. Before you go and polish a medal for me for doing this, know I’ve really struggled -not only to learn what to do and how to do it, but to do it again and again with a good attitude. And just for the record, my husband is far more patient.
It’s frustrating that this is not something any one of us can fix or hurry. There seems to be little point to the lingering and little comfort to be offered. Most of what we “do” for my Dad is general body-maintenance. I remain thankful that he is here, that both my parents are here… with us. Even if we are awkward or more clumsy than professionals, I know they will be loved right up until the end.
My peace comes in the true Hope that Jesus offered to all of His followers: Someday we WILL leave earth and rest in Him for ALL eternity.
Oh, the JOY of knowing Christ as LORD!