My Dad and me
\r\n\r\nI am moved to post this story as it has brought tears to those with whom I have shared it… may it inspire you and perhaps help with your loved ones too.\r\n\r\nThis is a photo of my dear Dad and I a few years before his passing in 2004. He suffered from Alzheimer’s disease and had a slow decline for some years until the family finally had to move him twenty five miles from his beloved retirement home and into the Mercy Care Home across the bay for special needs when he needed full time care.\r\n\r\nDad did not want to go. it was heartbreaking. I traveled from Hawaii, our home, back to California to help with the move as I wanted to be there to help my brother, Tim (Dad’s loving main caregiver), in any way I could.\r\n\r\nA few days ago, my brother sent me this email, which brought back those sweet memories of the magic that happened that day. Here it is:\r\n\r\nEMAIL SENT TO ME 3/8/13\r\n
“So Trish, here I am reading the AARP bulletin (ain’t retirement weird?) and they have an article on the healing powers of music. “You can use music to get loved ones through transitions, whether it’s moving from one room to another or on to a different task.”\r\n\r\nAnd of course I immediately recalled that miraculous day when we were to move Dad from the Magnolia over to Mercy in Oakland (not the first time we tried, by the way). \r\n\r\n
He refused to get out of bed or to cooperate at all. We tried everything, and were about to give up once again. The van had waited for over an hour and a half, and was ready to leave. And then you started to sing. And, oh my God, the miracle began. As you sang, Dad responded, and gradually brightened, eventually trying to join in. \r\n\r\nHe allowed his caregivers to get him up, dressed, fed and ready to go, the singing non-stop. You had an amazing repertoire, as you ran out of family favorites. I remember lullabies, show tunes, Christmas songs, camp songs, torch songs, fight songs, and more. We all tried to fill in (I think TimIII was there?). When we stopped, Dad drooped, so it had to be sustained. \r\n\r\nAll the way down the elevator, across the lobby for the last time, singing and waving goodbye went Dad. And it didn’t stop there. For the entire ride, across the San Mateo Bridge, up the East shore, all the way into Mercy, your heart gave forth with song. And it saved the day. I figure you sang continuously for at least two and one half hours. Yes, you were exhausted, but we cried with success.\r\nThanks, Trish! And, keep on singing!\r\nLove,\r\nTim’\r\n\r\nI had to keep eye contact with Dad the whole time … if it wavered, he slumped, and he had a phobia of bridges, so I could not stop. It was the best gift I could give to my dear Dad and I loved every minute of it.\r\n\r\nHe passed just a few months after that day … it was the last time I saw him.
