Visiting Dad

I visited my dad on the way home from work yesterday. He fell a while back and had his hip replaced and has been in a special care facility since then. After wondering if he was going to even survive the ordeal (he just turned 87), he seems to be doing fairly well, although I'm not sure how mobile he will be. It has been very difficult for him to be away from his wife for this amount of time. The end of this year they will have celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary and I can't recall them being away from each other for more than a day. In spite of all that, he seems to be doing fairly well.

Dad's broken hip is made much more difficult by his dementia. Seven or eight years ago he started suffering from memory loss. About five years ago, mom started suffering from the same illness. It is now to the point that they can remember me and my siblings, but not much detail about our families. Or much of anything else. Since dad has been at Evergreen, Roger has stopped in nearly every day before work and I have stopped in nearly every day after work. Unfortunately, dad can't remember who has visited him during the day, so others may be visiting him, but he can't pass that information along to us. I have enjoyed my visits with dad. He knows he can't remember things, and he feels bad about that, but I am able to reassure him that it is not his fault. We are able to talk some about his life growing up, but even some of those details are getting fuzzy. I am so glad for the resurrection when his memory will not only be returned to him, but will be perfected in such a way that we can't comprehend. It will be fun to talk about these days with perfect recollection.

One thing which has affected me is that many years ago he wrote his life story. On a typewriter. And not a self-correcting typewriter, either. It took him years to do it, but it is a true 118 page literary work. It contains not only experiences from his life, but his thoughts and ideas. I am not sure what possessed him to write it, but I'll bet he was prompted to do it, even if he didn't know it at the time. I find it miraculous that he finished his history only about five years before his dementia started setting in. I know he wrote his life story not only for himself, but also for his children and grandchildren because he not only made copies for each of his children, but also made one for each of his grandchildren and gave them out as Christmas presents. It is a testimony to me to know that his legacy will live on for generations after his earthly life has ended.