My Father No Longer Knows Me.

Dread. The feeling slowly washes over me as I navigate the now familiar drive. I’m stone-faced and on a mission, trying with all my might to stay strong, to ignore my beating heart, my shallow breathing, the tears welling up. I turn up the music. It doesn’t help. My chest is heavy, my mind is racing in circles trying to prepare myself for what I already know is about to happen - what I know I will no doubt face. I tell myself to be strong. I HAVE to be strong. I have no choice. I change the song to one of my favorites, hoping to distract myself so I can belt out the lyrics with the music so loud that surely it will drown out these terrible, heart-wrenching thoughts. 

It doesn’t. I think, what if it’s worse, what if HE’S worse? In that moment - then and there - the guilt hits me like a ton of bricks. How dare I? My SIXTY-THREE year old father is locked up like a caged animal and I’m worried about HOW I WILL FEEL if he’s declined further in the days since I’ve seen him? How. Dare. I? I should be ashamed of myself...and I immediately add shame to the laundry list of emotions taking over my body. 

I take a deep breath and walk to the door putting on a confident air, because that’s supposed to help, right? Once inside, I immediately see him - shuffling, pacing, his head down to the point that even my vertically challenged self has to bend my knees to try to look his normally larger than life 6 foot stature in the eye. We’ve seen it before. It’s the first thought I have in the morning and the last thought I have as I (try to) fall asleep. That and the tiny twin bed he sleeps in without the comfort of his wife of 35+ years. What does he think? What does he feel? DOES he think or feel? Does he know - even for a moment - where he is and what is happening to him? 

My constant prayer is that he doesn’t. But I do. My mom does. My grandma, my children, my brother - we all do. And we all feel deeply - deeper than any of us could imagine. Our hearts ache even during what should be our happiest times. In fact, I’ve found my heart aches more during those times - those times my dad would or should be present, the times we’re getting to experience something he never will again...while he’s away from us shuffling and pacing and looking at the floor. 

What I didn’t expect today, what I couldn’t prepare for, is that today was the first day my father didn’t light up when he saw me. I bent down trying to distract his floor-concentrated gaze, looking into his beautiful blue eyes that have always, always beamed at me with love and pride, have always been happy to see me, have always made me feel like I was the most beautiful girl in the room...and all I saw was a blank stare. He met my gaze, but for the first time...my father didn’t know me. My father no longer knows me.