My Father's Daughter

This post is for me.

I spoke to my father yesterday morning.
I haven't heard from him in two years.
I didn't have his number until the day before
and got it from one of my brothers,
who wasn't exactly sure it was the right number.

But I called anyway--
got an electronic voicemail
and left my message,
"Hey, Dad? This is your daughter, Dawn.
Not sure if this is your number.  I'm just calling to
check on you. Call me back."

Yesterday morning the phone rang--
caller-i.d. had my father's name on it.
Anxious,
I picked up the phone,
"Hey Daddy!"
"Dawn? Is that you?"-- a very frail voice on the other end.
"Yessir!" the words trembled on my lips.
"How are you?" I asked.
I was anticipating the phrase he has used my entire life,
"If I was any better, I couldn't stand it."--
but it wasn't there.
"Good. Did you know it was my birthday the other day?
I'm 69 years old."
His birthday is in June. He'll be 70.
"Where do you live now?"
"We're in Colorado again." I said.
"Oh, good for you. It's a nice place."

"Say, Daddy, I was talking to Keir and he says you've lost alot of weight.
Are you eating?" I asked.
"Yeah, I eat."
"Well, what have you eaten this morning? Today?"
"Hmm I dunno."
"You don't know? Can you think real hard and try to remember what you've eaten today?"
"I dunno. I eat though."
"O ok, that's good, Daddy.  Did you take your medications this morning?"
"No. I don't take medicine."
"You don't take your high blood pressure medicine?"
"Nope."
"What about your Doctor? Did he say you could stop taking it?"
"I don't see no Doctor."
"You don't?  Not ever?"
"Nope."

My father has been on medications for at least 10 years.
I wonder why his Doctor hasn't followed up, hunted him down, or made someone aware
that my elderly father needs his meds.

"So, Daddy, when was the last time you saw the boys? (meaning my brothers)
"Oh 'bout two days ago. Yeah, I just saw them."
"Well, I'm planning on coming out there to see you soon. Would that be okay?
Is there a good time you'd like me to come?"
"As soon as possible." he answers. "As soon as possible."
"Okay Daddy, I will see you soon."
"Bye, Girl." and he hangs up the phone.

I immediately call my younger brother,
who informs me that he hasn't seen Dad in awhile...
alot longer than 2 days...closer to a couple of months.
We talk about what we want to do with Dad, who to call, etc.
He says he'll help me by doing whatever he can on that end,
since he lives in Georgia
and my father lives in SC.
Then we hang up.

I sit at my desk for a moment in silence.
I didn't know how bad it'd become.
I didn't know.
and then,
Reality sinks in.
That is my future.
My Dad's mind is my future.
Dementia.
I already have sticky notes and message boards
around the house,
I scribble cryptic notes on my hand
to remember times and places
on my bad days...
which come and go without warning,
but I know when I am having one.
But still, I am grateful that
I'm not lost in my world yet.
Even knowing that when I do
get pretty bad off,
I will not be alone.

My husband lays out my meds everyday now,
so I don't forget to take them.
Sometimes, I see them on the counter
and still forget to take them,
until one of the yahoos reminds me again.
My needs will always be met,
because I have a family who loves me.

My parents divorced nearly twenty years ago...
my father was with a woman for ten years
who wanted him all for herself
and kept us kids away
and he let her.
Then when they broke up,
it had been ten years since he'd been around,
and by then,
there wasn't much to say.
Our relationships were estranged
and we were all indifferent.

But yesterday,
hearing my nearly-invisible
father sound like a child,
vulnerable
needy,
the indifference vaporated
instantly.

That's my Daddy.
And he needs me.
The way I am going to need
own family in years to come.
Talk about karma.
wow.

This morning, as I lay in bed with my Mr Wonderful,
I told him about the conversation with my Dad,
and how I realize my future
and all the emotions that go with this realization.
Typical, Mr W-style,
he smiles and says,
"We're gonna paint your face everyday.
You'll look great!"
I laugh and ask, "Will you bedazzle me too? And a red hat with a purple feather boa?
I don't want to be invisible!"
"Oh Sweetheart," he says, "You'll be fine. We'll always take care of you."

So excuse me now,
I need to search for plane tickets to Georgia and
start shopping for a red hat and purple feather boa.
And a bedazzler.