Fading from Memory - Comments

Clearing up - Cailey

Cailey — Fri, 26 Sep 2008 10:07:44 +1000

I second Maggie's comment on thinking before tossing. As long as you have it, you can always toss it out, sell it or give it away. Once it passes out of your hands, though, you can't get it back even if you change your mind about wanting to keep it. The inconvenience of having too much stuff everywhere is offset by the great increase in positive consequences to the very thoughtful disposition of effects.

Been there and thinking of you all,
Cailey

Clearing up - Maggie

Maggie — Fri, 26 Sep 2008 00:38:29 +1000

PS I loved the pack ice simile and ice-berg metaphor. I so know what you mean!

I'll let you know when I get photos up - maybe next week if life doesn't take over again. A lot of our ice-bergs have heaped up over each other - not enuff floor space!

Clearing up - Maggie

Maggie — Fri, 26 Sep 2008 00:23:35 +1000

I really feel for you - going through papers is necessary, but it takes a helluva long time... And then you have to do it again to double-check you haven't missed anything important. I'm on the 3rd or 4th trawl now, and am still turning up papers that may be important.

You can barely get into our house as we clear the flat for a possibly impending sale (we hope - had one sale fall through already).

I'm thinking of taking some "before" photos of our living room so I can track how it improves when I get time and energy to begin sorting it. (we have lawyer probs that are stressful, so neither of us are feeling much like getting on with sorting, besides there's not time as the legal stuff has to take priority)

I found it helpful to get right away to get a break when we could. Is it possible for you to do that? Not living in the middle of the sorting helped clarify things for me. At least I felt it did!

We've had some stressful dealings with lawyers the last couple of weeks, so are hoping to get off for the weekend tomorrow. Husband is one of the most patient and long-suffering folks I know (he must be to stay married to me!), but even he is beginning to tear his hair out!

I hope that you can find the strength to go through all the stuff, but bear in mind it's important to not chuck things out too quickly - we are hanging on to some stuff until we feel more able to make rational decisions.

Best wishes from Liverpool

Excavations - Gai Rae Hudson

Gai Rae Hudson — Wed, 24 Sep 2008 03:39:50 +1000

I'm catching up, again, Mike...this time it's been a while longer than usual, so I was surprised, but not shocked, to read of your dad's death.
I want you to know that I am very, very grateful that you've continued with your meticulous candor as you've reported about the end of your dad's life, and have continued through your reactions. They are particularly interesting and, sometimes, oddly, inspirational for me, personally.
You (and your family) are in my gentlest and most concerned thoughts. Carry on.

Excavations - Amelia

Amelia — Tue, 23 Sep 2008 09:12:51 +1000

As I read this entry it warms my heart because although I have never had the pleasure of meeting you, I can almost see the smile on your face as you remember the simply quirky and wonderful things that were your parents. People grief in different ways, you did your grieving while you watched your father slowly slip away from you, and now you are healing. I wish you the best of luck and many more smiles.

And today - Elle

Elle — Tue, 16 Sep 2008 21:53:11 +1000

Dear Mike
It seems that your Dad had a very interesting life and consequently he must have had many stories to tell. I'm sure they will put a smile on your face as you recall them in the days and years to come.
It's nice that your family communicate - make sure that never stops.
Kindest thoughts to you to all.
Elle

And today - Paula

Paula — Sat, 13 Sep 2008 23:08:18 +1000

Mike,

I am sorry to read about your dad's passing. I have not been keeping up with people's blogs and today did it for the first time in months, finding this sad news. I wish you and your family peace and strength - I know just how difficult this is.

Paula

Funeral set - Connor

Connor — Sun, 07 Sep 2008 16:01:33 +1000

It was plundering Don's collection of tapes whilst we were looking after Gisbourne Close when they were in China that first got me listening to ABBA.

For me therefore at least, "Thank you for the Music" would have been perfect

See you Wednesday

Aftermath - Elle

Elle — Thu, 04 Sep 2008 16:22:16 +1000

Dear Mike
I know that even though you were prepared for the inevitable, you will still grieve for the loss of a loved one. It seems to me that your Dad did a pretty good job in raising you and your siblings. One can only hope that he did not suffer when he left this world. I think you are right in keeping the news from your mum.
My thoughts are with you.

Aftermath - Patty McNally Doherty

Patty McNally Doherty — Thu, 04 Sep 2008 15:36:40 +1000

I am so sorry for your loss. I remember finding your blog for the first time, years ago. Your parents were both living at home, and they both had Alzheimer's, though your mother was much worse off than your dad. I remember thinking what an impossibly tough situation that presented. We had just, I laugh...just, my father to care for with Alzheimer's and it exhausted his spouse, my six siblings and me.

Your blog taught me much, you made me laugh and cry, but mostly, you made me feel like Australia was right across the street. Thank you for all of it. I especially remember the hike you took with your father and Greg. He had so much gear that you wound up carrying it for him, right? And you were so pissed. I think that's how the story went, at least that's what I remember. And all the effort you went to with the key for the lock, and the remote camera and so much more. You have written a deep, rich account.

I hope you will continue blogging about your mom. And I agree completely to not try to make her aware of any of it, not that you could if you wanted. Alzheimer's does have a tiny bit of mercy, in that the pain of losing others is dulled by the loss of one's own identity.

I imagine another stool being added to the Elsewhere.

You and yours are in my thoughts.

Patty

Aftermath - Iowa, USA

Iowa, USA — Thu, 04 Sep 2008 01:36:42 +1000

I am so deeply sorry for your loss. You did a wonderful thing for readers (like me) whose families will face a similar thing in the near future. You shared, you explained, you wondered, you kept meticulous notes - and are taking your precious time (at such a busy time) to keep everyone updated. Thank you and wishing you strength isn't enough - but it is mostly all I can say to you.

Please take care of yourself, make time for yourself, sleep as you need - and indulge yourself in more ice creams, if that continues to help.

I hope you can find time to share and enjoy a visit with the relatives from England.

Overnight vigil - Maggie

Maggie — Thu, 04 Sep 2008 01:18:55 +1000

Dear Mike,

So sorry to hear your news. Even when it's "expected" it's still a shock when it happens.

Will be thinking of you and your family over the next few days. If it's anything like over here in UK you will all have a ridiculous amount of stuff that it's necessary to do. Make sure you look after yourselves amongst everything.

Best wishes from Wales (away from home at the mo)

Maggie

Overnight vigil - Dee

Dee — Wed, 03 Sep 2008 19:42:46 +1000

Mike
I am so sorry for your loss, be very proud of yourself and your siblings.
Kind regards
Dee

Good visit - Patty McNally Doherty

Patty McNally Doherty — Sat, 30 Aug 2008 08:51:01 +1000

They would also tell us what a faithful son your are. How you did the very best you could without giving up your life to their experience.

Your post is so touching. For all of the heartbreak and terrible loss, you have this shining thread of love that runs from one post through the next.

Patty

Good visit - redcedar

redcedar — Sat, 30 Aug 2008 00:10:11 +1000

Mike, since your parents can't say it now, I'll say it for them: Thank you.

I so well remember last year when both my parents were alive, trying to weave together some sort of bearable reality for them to inhabit together, when each one was in a separate private unknowable universe that we label dementia. I still don't know whether I was doing it for them or for myself, but I admire your faithfulness to them.

Seeing with my own eyes - Jeannette

Jeannette — Mon, 18 Aug 2008 01:42:27 +1000

I went through the same thing with my Father, watching him disappear bit by bit before my eyes and there was nothing we could do to stop it.

I feel for you and for your family. By the way, I found your blog through Technorati and when I saw what it was about I just had to drop by. Wishing you and yours all the best from England.

Seeing with my own eyes - redcedar

redcedar — Sun, 17 Aug 2008 04:42:13 +1000

Mike,

I think at these personal end-times (which may be brief or long drawn out) there really isn't any way to "do better." You and your siblings have been faithful and loyal to your parents. That's just about all there is. The things our parents go through in these lingering old-age diseases are just awful for them and for those around them. Nothing can change this, it seems.

This sounds horribly fatalistic, but I mean it in a different way. You cannot take the suffering away from them, and you have done everything you can to alleviate their discomfort.

In order to change this, this terrible story that gets repeated over and over constantly all over the world, we are going to have to think about extreme old age in ways we simply are not willing to do, not yet anyway.

Heartfelt regards to you and your family, and once again thank you for writing about it so vividly and honestly.

Another day - Patty

Patty — Sat, 16 Aug 2008 09:02:43 +1000

There is hardly anything as awful as hearing a father or mother cry for help and watching them be ignored by those trusted to care for them. Seeing that changes a person for a long time.

All of this, the loss of memory, of one's identity, the loss of dignity when its needed most, when one is vulnerable, weak and dying, it changes all of us who read your blog. And as author, the effect it will have on you will be profound. You've paid such close attention, and recorded all of it for years.

I guess our parents, who formed us from birth, continue to form us through life. These long deaths, the Alzheimer's route, is an exceptionally difficult path and it twists us into shapes we would never voluntarily assume. Who are we, when it's over? That's the question I ask myself, years after my father's death. I am the same woman, though my sons are grown and done with their childhoods - eleven years is a long time to deal with an illness like Alzheimer's - but I am not the same at all.

Is it worth it, all of this, to know, at the end, that one can stretch so far? I may have needed to learn that, but I can't balance my need to know with my fathers long years of suffering.

I don't know. I'm rambling. But wanted you to know that you, your mom and dad, Greg and Rachel are in a stranger's thoughts and prayers, for what it's worth.

Patty

Almost finished - Connor

Connor — Tue, 22 Jul 2008 14:50:22 +1000

This brings back memories of clearing out Auntie Elsie's flat (from the other side of the family) a few years ago. Tens of unopened soap packs, £350 in old fivers stuffed in a jar in the garage and my particular favourite 8 3litre bottles of lemonade still unopened bought several years previously.
Maybe it's an old age thing, you forget what you've bought but the need to buy it remains strong. Or maybe it's genetic, I've certainly got vast quantities of stuff I never use, and that's despite moving house every couple of years, and rationalising everything.

Housing plans - Susan

Susan — Sun, 20 Jul 2008 16:48:22 +1000

Hi Mike,

I read your blog for the first time on fri night and I want to thankyou for laying bare your experiences with your Mum and Dad and AD. I care for my Dad who has Lewy Body Dementia and AD. Friday wasn't such a great day...Dr's reports disappearing and red tape and brick walls...I came across your blog later that evening and felt somewhat, sadly, relieved in the recognition of experiences. Reading your blog helped me to re-focus, thankyou.

Susan.