Simply put, you don't. I am not writing this in an attempt to alter your perception of my father. Quite honestly I am writing this because I can, and for better or worse I want whoever reads this to know that I saw him as a hero. Sure, he was flawed, but heroes always are. I have to have faith that the heaven I believe in gave him back his perfect health and insane intellect and charm. Clinging to that keeps my belief in his invincibility alive.
This is my personal eulogy to my dad. I don't want so say it's to my "father" because that's too formal. Anybody with the right anatomy can biologically be a father but it truly takes somebody special to be remembered as a DAD. If there were fewer "fathers" and more "dads" we'd have a lot fewer problems in the world. This is not the be all and end all of life's woes but it would (at the very least) make a serious dent in them.
While my mom, my wife, my kids and I have been witness to the carnage that Alzheimer's has wreaked on his intelligence and personality, we are doing our best to remember him from 'before'. Since Alzheimer's fights dirty I've put down a few thoughts to assist in this effort.
When my wife was just my girlfriend, dad would introduce her as "Adam's really good friend". I suspect this was more to put her at ease than because he didn't know the status of our relationship. With as bright as he was there's no way he would have missed that. I consider myself blessed that my wife remembers him as a man of great intellect and integrity.
He helped teach my son how to count to 100 by pushing him on the swing. Every push was counted as one and when he got to 100 he started over. There were probably days that there were near 1,000 pushes. I don't know that my son will remember that but we tell him about it. He needs to know the kind of man grandpa was, not the one this vicious illness turned him into.
Latent memories come from when I was younger. I have no idea how old I was but I was old enough to remember my dad telling me he loved me. He did this multiple times throughout my life so I don't know why this particular instance sticks out but it is what it is. He would go jogging early in the morning and one night he asked me to join him the next morning. He waited until I wasn't gasping for breath before he told me that he just wanted me to know that he loved me. Maybe it was inspiration on his part to make sure I heard him instead of my own wheezing but I remember it being dark and early in the morning. Every child should know they are loved by their parents so I'm grateful he took the time to tell me before he didn't remember I existed.
My love for Star Wars is in no small part due to me seeing it with him. I can't even honestly remember if any of my other family was there, but I remember being there with him. It doesn't hurt that the film was a colossal success but my love for the franchise is unavoidably attached to the time I spent in the theater with my dad.
He had several meaningful discussions about 'stuff' with all of his children (as well as any of their friends who wanted it) and he never pretended he knew something if he didn't. I remember one instance (again, I don't remember WHY I remember) where he said, "I don't know, let's find out together".
When it came time for one of many annual pinewood derby races, while other fathers were doing all of the work on their sons cars, my dad made sure I had as much of my own labor input as possible. My design wouldn't win any races and he knew it, but he wanted me to get the car I had a hand in creating. Aside from the power tools and the stuff I was too young to do without the very real possibility of injuring myself, I did it all. You can tell by the paint job and parts of the car that inadvertently broke that I had a hand in it. Nobody remembers who won the races but I remember the process of building the car with him, and I always will.
There is a second part of the story too. This was the first year they stopped doing trophies. I suspect it had to do with getting the competitive dads out of the race but for whatever reason I didn't know I wouldn't get a trophy. I was visibly upset so dad got a trophy for me and created a stand for the car. He was already my hero but he solidified his place as my hero then, and many times since then.
I'm not even sure how he did it but whatever method he used to teach and guide us it was never force. He just told us why he believed and acted the way he did. He was a staunch member of the LDS faith and tried vehemently to live the TRUE teachings, not the ones seen from sanctimonious members who warp them into puffed-up, self-righteous, pious ones that give all of us a bad name.
Never force.
He was the least judgmental person on the planet. Whether you were gay, straight, Jewish, Atheist, Christian, Republican, Democrat, black, polka-dotted or mohawked, you would have felt comfortable in his presence. He had a way of making people feel at ease and taught us never to judge or make assumptions.
He gave me the most wonderful childhood. So good, in fact, that I never really completely grew up. Ask anyone. ;)
He was the ultimate grandpa. He could do the most mundane things with his grandkids for hours on end. Maybe this isn't so unusual because I'm not a grandpa yet and have no frame of reference to compare it to but I can't help deifying this man I lost - twice. Once to the despicable disease of Alzheimer's and then to death. I have to believe that death was a release for him and that his mind now has more prowess than it ever did.
Whether you believe in an afterlife or not my faith tells me I'll see him again in a perfect form. While I grieve and mourn, I do not despair. I am protected by the knowledge that we will embrace once again and he will tell me again that he loves me. To believe otherwise would be too emotionally overwhelming.
In borrowing from several sources (and I don't know who to give credit to for some):
"God saw you getting tired and a cure was not to be. So He put his arms around you and He whispered, "come to me".
"Don't cry that it's over, smile that it happened."
"Death is nothing at all.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
I am I, and you are you.
Whatever we were to each other, that we still are.
Call me by my old familiar name,
Speak to me in the easy way which you always used.
Put no difference in your tone,
wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.
Laugh as we always laughed
at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Pray, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household name that it always was.
Let it be spoken without effort,
without the trace of a shadow in it.
Life means all that it ever meant,
it is the same as it ever was.
There is unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind? Because I am out of sight?
I am waiting for you, somewhere very near,
just around the corner.
All is well
-Henry Scott Holland-
...and finally, in an homage to a vivid memory...
"One with the Force, they are, and our job it is to remember that we will, in time, also pass on. Luminous beings are we, but temporary vessels, our bodies are. And we shall all find ourselves here, in time. A moment of silence, I ask - to remember, and to move on."
-- Yoda
This explains a LOT about why YOU are a good, kind, caring man. I hope you're doing ok, and that you feel comforted. Give Tam a hug for me. Love you all.
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