Being Ernest

22 days after my fathers passing, 17 days after being laid to rest,
my mother is celebrating their wedding anniversary…
53 years ago today.

These two worked side by side all of their married life.
As parents.
As business owners.
As missionaries.
As eternal companions.

They are two of my greatest examples in love and charity.
My father cared for my mother as long as he was able.
She then took care of him when he was incapable.

Happy Anniversary Mom.
I am certain dad remembers and is blowing you kisses from heaven!

Being Ernest

As a family, we were preparing to leave town the following week for our annual trip to Lake Powell.
After my last visit with dad, I knew things were a little off.
His look was “droopy”… I didn’t think he would last the year.



I had a strong feeling that I should have a plan in place, just in case I was needed at home during our vacation.
I checked out pricing for flights home and knew the best route to take.
Little did I know, we would never make it to the lake.

Mom received a call from dads care center Sunday evening.
He took a turn for the worse and they didn’t expect him to last 24 hours.
My husband and youngest daughter joined me as I rushed out to meet Mom and my brother there.
My oldest was at work and would join us later.

Eric was already there when we arrived. I found him in the lobby, trying to console his youngest son.
I made my way to dads room and immediately recognized the death rattle.
Mom arrived not long afterward. There was no doubt that we were spending the night there.
Without hesitation, we canceled the hotel, and Eric postponed his business trip.
Both mom and dad were given a priesthood blessing.

Evan and Taylor left to meet Kylee back home.
They gathered some things to help keep me comfortable and the three of them returned with my care package.
Eric made arrangements for G to spend the night at a friends and retuned after dropping him off.

Mom, Eric and I spent the night in chairs placed in dads side of the room.
We listened to him labor in breathing all night long.
The nurses took great care of him, administering Morphine and Lorazepam as prescribed by hospice.
In the morning, mom left to care for her dog and eat some breakfast. Eric and I stayed.
Dad continued to struggle with his breathing. Just listening to him wore me out. I am certain he was exhausted.
Mom returned and the three of us watched, listened, and waited.
Dad took his last breath at 11:01 AM, Monday morning.

My immediate thought…. Dad has CLARITY!

Being Ernest

Dad has been spending a lot of time this week. That is where I found him this morning. I started our visit at his bedside.

It wasn't long before I met Jose, the tech responsible for bathing,  dressing and moving dad. We chatted as he shaved dad's face. Dad was resistant,  like a messy child getting his face wiped. 

After his teeth were brushed,  I wheeled him to the TV room where Dumbo was on. He was given his "pudding pills" (as I affectionately call them) and seemed to relax a bit. I was told that he has been tense all week and the latest yesterday was especially bad. Nothing seemed to calm him. It was good to see that today might be a better day.

Being Ernest

With the 4th of July weekend ahead of us, I decided to visit dad a day early. I was hoping for a little chat. I watched him sleep instead.

Holidays for us have been about inviting and gathering family.... all the extended family included. But, with kids getting older, life getting busier,  and yards& homes  under renovation,  these family gatherings have been suffering.  They have been different too, with dad gone. Perhaps, we need to make certain sacrifices and bring him home for a few hours.

Dad continues to sleep and I can't help but notice how much he looks like himself in this state. He is relaxed. No confused looks on his face.  No fidgeting with his clothes. Just peaceful. He awakened briefly and all the tension returned, melting away as he fell back into his peaceful slumber. I decided to go  and leave him in his good state.

Happy 4th of July,  Dad.

Being Ernest

A series of events over the past few months have been very difficult for me.
Details are not important, but suffice it to say… I have been discouraged and devastated.
My feelings of despair were lifted today as I paid a visit to my dad.
The first thing I saw when I arrived was dad, sitting in a recliner, with the dog I got him for his birthday…
that alone, melted the ache in my heart and put a little smith on my face!



After a while, I had the pleasure of feeding my dad. His plate was full of hamburger, potatoes and beets.
I felt a little guilty feeding him the beets, knowing full well that if he has his wits about him,
they never would have touched his plate. But there he was, sitting there with his mouth open,
gladly accepting everything on the fork and being happy and grateful for it.

Before I knew it, my troubles were fading.

It amazes me how my dad still teaches me. He is wise – in spite of his current condition.

This moment reminded me of another tender moment when my youngest daughter fed peaches to her dying grandfather.
This is one of her strongest memories and nearly 20 years later, evokes great emotion for her.
He was another great man full of wisdom and knowledge. A man, that I knew long enough to love dearly and to miss deeply.

My husband and I often talk with each other, wondering what words of advise he would give us when one of us is
conflicted, confused or discouraged. I wonder too, what my own father would tell me today if he could speak.
It is pretty easy to guess what they would tell me about my current situations.
I am certain that it is very similar to what my husband has already told me.
I believe that it would be something like this:

Brothers and sisters, there is enough heartache and sorrow in this life without our adding to it through our own stubbornness, bitterness, and resentment.
We are not perfect.
The people around us are not perfect. People do things that annoy, disappoint, and anger. In this mortal life it will always be that way.
Nevertheless, we must let go of our grievances. Part of the purpose of mortality is to learn how to let go of such things. That is the Lord’s way.
~President Dieter F. Uchtdorf    {read/hear his full talk HERE}

Being Ernest

Growing up, music was a part of our life.
We always had the newest players on the market.
I remember vinyl,  cassette tapes, and 8-track.
Family trips to the cabin kept us away from television (it was never missed).
The Carpenters, Simon & Garfunkel, Cat Stevens and others were always there.
Dancing, is a natural byproduct of music. So of course, dancing was (is) also a part of our life.
Daddy/Daughter dates that involved dancing were ALWAYS attended.

Today, while vising dad, we got to dance again.
After morning stretches, the participating residents have a brief free-style dance off.
An invitation was extended to dad to join them.
He was promptly wheeled over to the dance floor and I followed.
As soon as the music started, I grabbed his hands and we started dancing to Jail House Rock.
Every now and then, I would stop swinging his arms to see if he would lake the lead.
I told him that we danced like this before.
I let go to show him a copy of this picture that was on my phone.

I put the phone away and returned to the dance floor.
This time, he took the lead and grabbed my hands.
I continued to swing his arms and we danced some more.
I love our visits most when bits and pieces of dad resurface…
even the tiniest ones matter!

Being Ernest

The Last week my youngest daughter joined me. I was prepared to trim his nails, but they were already taken care of. He was dressed and looking nice in the BYU shirt I bought him the week prior.

I arrived today during breakfast.  He was being fed and wearing that same BYU shirt. I managed to get brief eye contact, so he knew I  [someone] was there. I waited for him to finish eating and then took the chair next to him. I sat there for a while and watch him tighten the lid on his drink.  I rubbed his arm to remind him I was there and he returned the gesture by patting my knee and telling me I was a good guy.

Our visit was relatively brief today as I spent the time watching him while he slept in his wheelchair. I chatted with a caregiver prior to leaving and she offered reassurances that he seems to be in a good place. Content and at peace with his circumstances. I am too.

Being Ernest

When I arrived  this morning dad was slipping out of his wheelchair and an aide was trying to help him up. I held him while she went to get help. They set him back up and it wasn't long before he slipped back down again. It was determined that his new cushion (placed there to prevent pressure sores) was causing the slipping. It has since been removed, temporarily, and I will shop for sweatpants at Walmart later today. We believe his silky pajamas are not compatible with the cushion.

He avoided eye contact today. His hair is still short and he is clean shaven. It is very nice seeing him look more like himself. While we were sitting together,  one of the residents played The Battle Hymn of the Republic on the piano. Dad hummed along. I told him about what is going on with our family while he stared into space.

I took a moment to shop at the nearby Walmart for sweats. I thew in a BYU shirt too. [Early father's day.] When I returned he was right where I left him. I put his new clothes in his room, notified some of the staff and wheeled him to the TV for some visual stimulation.

Being Ernest

Earlier this week, my cousin and his youngest son paid dad a visit. Visitors are always a good thing…

Today, Dad was still eating breakfast  when I arrived. A nurse nurse was feeding him peaches. I said my hellos and waited him to finish. One if the residents kept asking for sips of his drink. She would get distracted accept our excuses then she would ask again a few minutes later.

I brought in Dad's car magazine this time. Does wiping down his syrup sticky fingers, I noticed his long nails. I must to bring the clippers next visit. His hair remains trimmed and he is clean shaven ( with only a little scuffle). I assume Hospice is responsible for this upkeep.

He is quite fidgety and is mumbling incoherently. His voice is quiet, but once in awhile I get a look and a smile. His smiles say so much. I got a little weepy today as a watched my once so strong daddy struggle to grasp a cup. But he kept on smiling. I guess it's safe to say... he is good with things.

I sat with him a little longer, gave him a little back scratch, & then said my goodbyes. As I was leaving I told him to have a good day. He responded "okay". I  left with a smile on my face.

Being Ernest

Dad got a shave and a haircut this last week.... it's always his best look, but not one he will always cooperate for. Dad has lost 10 pounds. He is weak and cannot get around without his wheelchair.  I have not even seen him in a recliner chair lately....always in his wheelchair.

The week prior, mom and I met with hospice. We sat in the dining room of the care center and discussed dad's needs and the doctors concerns.  We were also reminded that hospice is simply this: an extra layer of care.

As we were talking to the hospice nurse,  she turned to me and told me that I looked so very familiar.  As soon as she said it,  I knew who she was.... the nurse that gave peace and comfort to my mother-in-law as she passed just over 1 year ago. It was a tender mercy and a confirmation that this is a good thing for both mom and dad. It never hurts having more support, love and care. Am I right?

Being Ernest

Dad was in a good mood today.
He would hold eye contact for a moment.
He would randomly chuckle at nothing.
My visit with him was just what I needed.

I had a very difficult week.
The love and support of my husband and daughters
gave me everything I needed to start getting through it.
My mom encouraged me and loved me the way only a mom can.
I sat with my dad today, needing him too.

I was overwhelmed with the notion to talk to him,
to tell him what has happened, knowing it wouldn’t matter.
I teared up a bit and dismissed the thought.
But, it came back.
I looked at my dad and told him that I had a bad week.
He looked away at something that wasn’t there.
I told him that if he looked at me, I would tell him what happened.
In almost an instant, he looked my way.
I proceeded to tell him about my week.
When I was done, he chuckled.
I needed that too.
It was as if he was telling me that everything will be OK.
and I believe it will.

Thanks for being there for me, dad.

Being Ernest

Dad was a very dedicated journal keeper. He faithfully recorded thoughts and events. He even dedicated time to transposing his journal onto a computer. Naturally,  his diligence declined as his disease progressed.

My dad gave me much. Keeping this record is my way of giving him something back. It is also an opportunity to raise Alzheimers awareness,  in a very small way.

Today, dad was sleeping in the TV room. I just let him sleep as I sat and helped another resident with her word search. I tickled his foot to wake him up long enough to take his chocolate pudding disguised meds. He kept his eyes shut, but opened his mouth after each bite, just like an anxious baby bird being fed by its mother.  He promptly returned to his nap.

There was a brief moment when he opened his eyes and I jump up to his side. He happily said HELLO LADY to me and stroked my hair was we spoke a few words... and in an instant,  he was back to napping.

Being Ernest

I had one goal today for my visit with dad... trimming his fingernails.

I set out with toenail clippers in hand (that's right!), and my youngest daughter.

When I arrived, he was not in his usual spot in the dining room. Today, he was in a recliner in the TV room, fast asleep. I nudged him awake and said my hello's. I gently held his right hand and promptly snipped away. Some nails already shortened by his own incessant picking, others quite long and thick. (Hence, the toenail clippers.)

Getting to the left hand was not as easy. I literally had a battle on my hands. He was pulling away, grabbing my wrists, hiding his fingers. Doing all that he could to prevent me from completing my task. I learned today, that patience is key. I sat and held his hand and waited.
And waited.
And waited. 

I talked to him as I continued to make my way to a finger. I would single one out, pose it and wait. More than once, I had to start this process over. I eventually won the battle and left dad trimmed and both of us, quite content.

Being Ernest

It's Friday afternoon and I'm sitting here with dad. He was asleep when I arrived but was easily awakened.

He was again in his wheelchair at the dining table. This seems to be his comfort zone. I have not seen him in front of the television for some time now.

He glances my way once in a while and manages a smile. I hope this is a sign of contentment. I often wonder if he still experiences joy.  A smile gives me hope that he does.

Being Ernest

Friday has become my dad day. I spend at least an hour with him in the morning. Today is no exception. 

He has been in a Memory Care Center for two months. It was a hard decision to make. One filled with doubts and second guessing.  But, as we watch his continued withdrawal and decline,  we know now that this is right.  He is getting what we couldn't give and more of what we could... and this is good.

Today, I found him is his usual morning place. In a wheelchair at the dining room table.  All alone. I sat down in front of him and tried to make eye contact.  This is becoming increasingly difficult.  My eyes chased his and we finally connected.  I got a smile and a chuckle.  He doesn't speak much.

As part of our routine,  I scratch his back which is riddled with keratosis.  Some days this perks him up and he leans forward anticipating more. Today he didn't budge. I went to his room, got a warm, wet wash cloth. I wiped his face, cleaned the gunk from his lashes, and groomed his hair a bit. He enjoyed this, just as he did at home.

Most of my visit today was quiet. I just sat next to him as he slept. He perked up a bit after the nurses (who call him Ter-Bear) urged him to get up. He took a brief walk with their assistance. He sat down, in a chair this time, and we were able to connect eye to eye. He held eye contact for a bit this time. I like that. It gives our souls a chance to communicate. Another chuckle or two later he was back to dozing off. I said my goodbyes and told him I would see him another day.

Being Ernest

Ernest is my fathers name, although, he goes by Terry.

Several years ago, he was diagnosed with Alzheimer's. His early decline was slow and subtle, but noticeable. As we have approached the late stage of Alzheimer's, changes are becoming more dramatic. I have been impressed to start documenting our journey with him. Sharing thoughts, insights, and memories.

Today, I had a good visit with him. He was alert. Interactive. Aware.

He found a newspaper on the counter next to the table where he was sitting upon my arrival. He took it and began to "read" it, eyeing the same page over and over again. He would straight it, fold it, open it and re-read it over and over again. I am reminded of how meticulous he was. His workshop was perfectly clean and organized.

There was some music playing in the background and the song change caught his attention. I couldn't help but tease him... his response was perfect and his smile causes me to smile every time I see it!

refection

Upon relection, 2015 was a difficult year.
This is why I am grateful…

In January, we laid my mother in law to rest.

• Her two sons were at her bedside and gave her a PRIESTHOOD BLESSING.
• We were able to talk to our missionary on the phone upon per passing.
• Her services were simple yet beautiful.
• Her enitre family came together to celebrate her life and the reunion with her husband.
  (This is what we believe.)
• We gained a deeper love for family. Immediate and extended.

My father’s Alzheimers progressed rapidly.

• My brother, my husband and I all stepped forward to assist my mother.
• We grew closer to each other and to our mother – through CHARITY & SERVICE.
• I was able to spend some one on one time with dad. We listened to music and took selfies.

Dear friends and neighbors faced difficult times

• Neighbors came together to express love and lend support.
• I became even more aware of the abundance of love and strength exhibited by others.
• I received a confirmation of HOPE and gained a greater testimony of the power and comfort hope brings.

Both of my daughters were in separate automobile accidents.

• While severe damage to the cars occurred, both of them walked away unhurt. 
• We were down one car while repairs were being made, giving us the opportunity to sacrifice and serve each other. 

We made the difficult decision to place my father in a Memory Care Center.

• We took a leap of faith. Relying on the Lord to make sure that the needs of both Mom and Dad will be met.
• We found the perfect home. Full of love, charity, concern, and most importantly… the SPIRIT.
• Dad is now in a place where he can receive the full-time care and attention that his progressing Alzheimers requires.
• Mom has received a renewal… both physically and spiritually.
• We continue to exercise faith that the Lord is with us and will take care of us.
  We have faith that everything will work out according to His plan.

There were many other “little” things throughout the year. Pain. Sorrow. Fear, Worry.
I am grateful for every bit of it.
I am grateful for the strength it gave me.
I am grateful for the blessings it brought me.
I am grateful that, while life should have seemed hard and difficult, it became… wonderful!