A Note to My Daughter
A NOTE TO MY DAUGHTER
I say this with the most significant self-interest I can muster.
When you see me worn under the yoke of age or disease, I don't want you to be so upset that you only bring me your unhappiness and worry. That you'll forget how to see me, instead only treat me, categorize me with names and opinions, and not accept this reality.
Me and my daughter
So, let's make a pact between us. I'll practice accepting my mortality without complaining (UGH!) and prepare to accept death as a natural stage of life. When you visit or care for me, you'll practice accepting me as I am minus any worry or fear you're feeling.
I know. I know. You're probably saying, "Daaaaaaaad, why do we have to talk about this now?"
Well, never is not a good option, neither is later. Now is the time to have the conversation because death usually arrives a bit early. When you talk to your children about how your journey with me ended, I hope you'll describe an ending similar to what I experienced with your Mother. I hope you'll uncover a rich vein of love and contentment for yourself, as I did. And understand that love transcends these mortal bodies. So now is the time.
To help you grasp what you'll need to do, I've written out a bit of what I came to understand. At first, it may seem selfish and counterintuitive, almost paradoxical. But it isn't.
When we are no longer able to change a situation - we are challenged to change ourselves. Viktor E. Frankl
There's a lot on the Internet about caring for someone, about diseases and treatments, self-care guides, exercise, support groups, support services, finding aides, and blogs.
And there are self-help books. Daily meditations. Caregiver stories. Pre-caregiving and post caregiving stories. The Joy of Caregiving. The Surprise of Caregiving. When you Become a Caregiver. What to Do as a Caregiver. Resources for the Caregiver. Not much on the Soul of the caregiver. But plenty to read.
If that wasn't enough, there are friends and family members who offer advice with the best intentions. Take care of yourself. Eat well. Exercise. Socialize with your friends and family. Get enough sleep. Then you'll feel better, and when the fix wears off, repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
I get all that. Even though the fixes, suggestions, checklists, resources, books galore, and friend's suggestions were helpful, they seemed temporary and didn't give me what I needed.
It seemed like putting a band-aid on a broken foot.
Suffering runs deep for caregivers. I wanted a solution to my misery, though I couldn't describe what it was or what it would do for me, but I knew it existed. I had no clue how to find it. None. Or who to ask.
As karma would have it, out of nowhere, “a wizened old man” crossed my path.
He looked at me with a twinkle in his eyes and said, "How can your life be about anyone else but you?" I stopped. My brain froze, and my head started to spin. How do you even reply to that? He just smiled at me.
I didn't get it at first. Hmmm. Focus on me. Focus on me. I never thought that way before. Wizened old men say the most arcane things.
Then he spoke again, "It's pretty simple. You're put on this planet as a human being to uncover your true nature. Not watch Netflix. Life is the means. EVERYTHING put in front of you is part of your journey. “
We have met the enemy, and he is us. Pogo
I'm a little slow at times, but I finally understood what he meant. Focus on your own story and not on anyone else's journey. Your story is rich with opportunity. But then again, that sounded blatantly selfish. Wasn't I here to serve and care for my wife? How do I do that and focus on myself?
I decided to sit at the feet of this Sage, or instead across from him on a Zoom call, and listen. He spoke clearly and to the point. "Alzheimer's is not the antagonist in your story. You are. Free yourself, and you'll free your wife. Suffering results from not seeing clearly. Journey inward." Ugh! Another pronouncement that made my head spin. How does that happen? It appeared I had a lot to learn.
Like Indiana Jones and his fear of snakes, journeying inward was the last thing I wanted. The one trip I tried to avoid. The one place I feared to look. Not that I knew how to get there, anyway. Too many entanglements on the path. Too many dead ends. Too many opinions about myself. Too much fear.
But I saw no way out of my suffering. So, I ventured inward, tentatively at first, and discovered I could face my fears and embrace the pain I felt and not die in the process. I listened to the Sage, who was quite adept with his teachings. And over time, I stopped suffering and felt better about myself.
I committed to peering deep into myself. Far behind the ego deep into the Self, the immortal, imperishable Essence that is all of us. I held a vision that Consciousness was my true nature. I started to strip away the untruths I believed, gained a bit of knowledge, and found a degree of contentment.
I came to understand that caregiving was about me. It wasn't about how much I did but how I reacted to what was in front of me. Caregiving became a crucible, an opportunity to uncover long-held beliefs to see what was true and what could be discarded.
I recognized the word caregiver was a misnomer. I opted for husband and changed how I approached your Mother. No longer did I see her as a patient.
I stopped treating Alzheimer's as the antagonist and surrendered to the inevitability of its course. What I faced each day lost its emotional pull.
I freed myself to love your Mom without any reservations and released her as well. Care became acts of love, not doing things. I felt sad seeing your Mother's physical functions deteriorate, but I didn't bring that to her. I brought a stripped-down me, present for her.
Why am I telling you this? For selfish reasons, of course. I hope you'll come to understand what I learned through the forge of caregiving. I want you to know that if you become a caregiver for me, it's all about you, not me.
What I hope you'll bring to me is what you've come to understand about yourself, your duty in the world, and the love and happiness you feel about yourself. Your contentment. That's what I hope you'll present to me. Though we might not sit on kitchen counter together, we’ll sit together somewhere else.
So, the pact I've suggested will take work on both our parts. But I'll never forget the affect my work on myself had on your Mother.
Our time together felt like a slice of eternity.
I wish that for us.
If you’re a caregiver having difficulty in this role, feeling alone, frustrated and tired with no peers to share your experiences, on a rollercoaster ride of doctor calls and appointments, bouncing between good news and bad news, having more questions than answers, suffering as you’ve seen others suffer, having tried what everyone has said to try but to no avail, then you may be ready for a fundamentally different approach.
