My father has Parkinson’s Disease, and has also developed Senile Dementia. I dress him every morning, shave him whenever he needs it, take him to all his medical appointments, and provide him with all the things that he might need.
He has these pair of deep blue/green eyes which probably made my mother fall in love with him. Last week I was picking him up from the adult day care center, and I stared into his eyes, looking for a sign of love, and I couldn’t find one.
I have been taking care of him for over 20 years, and curiously enough, I had never heard from him the words "I love you" or "I am proud of you." Day after day we continue our routine but the bond that I believe should be there is non-existent. I just love him because he is my dad but I do not know much about his past, his history and he doesn’t know much about me.
I comb his hair, and just last week I had to buy him a new set of teeth because apparently he lost his dentures, and he can’t remember where. My father always made sure that he was dressed with very nice and expensive clothes but he never asked me how I was doing in school.
Please do not take me wrong, he provide for me everything that I needed from the material world. I got a motorcycle, and when I went to college he bought me a car. WE moved so many times from city to city, country to country, that I have lost count.
I look into his eyes and I feel sorry for him, for me. I am thirsty for those words of affection, for a hug. Sometimes, when I shave him, I outline his wrinkles, and wonder, where he has been all my life? Why is so hard for people to communicate love?
One day he will be gone, I won’t shave him anymore, I won’t kiss him like I do everyday when I drop him at the day care center.....and I will sit on his house wondering...my father who was he?
My father on the last Christmas we spent together in 2006.
P.S. I wrote this in January 16, 2007, on February 23, my father died of a massive heart attack. I gave him CPR but he was long gone. Images still haunt me of giving him mouth to mouth, and compressions to his chest. I miss him!