We were sitting in the screen porch at the cabin,
seated next to each other, but looking beyond ourselves,
down the hillside below to where we knew the creek to be,
even though we couldn't quite see it.
The dad I was with was my old dad,
the one that I knew before Alzheimer's took so much away.
It felt so good to be with that version of my father.
We talked about various things, but the conversation headed
to a place neither one of us really knew how to discuss.
He was a bit sad and worried,
feeling as if he was a burden to us in the last
half dozen years or so of his life. That bothered him deeply.
I was able to answer him confidently and honestly
as I told him, "No, you were not a burden."
He listened, quietly letting me explain.
I told him how he taught us all so many valuable lessons,
even when the chaos and confusion
muted the words.
He taught us what it meant
to be in the present moment. Fully in the moment...
with no past to reflect on and a future we weren't ready to explore.
Now. Together. Gradually slowing.
To nearly a stop. But not quite.
We learned from him that there is a gift in putting others
before yourself. It felt so right and so good to be there for him,
and with him. He brought our family closer together.
He was the catalyst for so much love.
I told him we experienced gratitude as he said "thank you"
even when it appeared that he had so little to be thankful for.
We found love in his smile.
He gave us a direct connection to joy,
making us laugh with his raised eyebrows and comical expressions.
And as I watched my mom beside him, day after day,
I came to understand what it is to truly love someone.
That much.
Then he turned his head away from the view and toward me.
There were tears in both our eyes.
And we knew.
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