My Ma and Pa were visiting at my house this weekend. It turned out to be a fairly good time. My dad behaved. That's the way I think of it now. Pretty sad, if I may say so. He has times when he's really hateful and in the early stages of getting mean. My mom, of course, bears the brunt of it on a daily basis. I figure she has had some moments with him she hasn't shared with the rest of us. She is beginning to get worn down from the stress. She isn't bitter or mad now but I get mad when she says he does stuff just to be spiteful or that she just doesn't understand why he did this or that. AARRRRGGGH. He doesn't know what the hell he's doing. She wants to be in control of this and she isn't so she resorts to that kind of thought process.

She doesn't have enough help with him or time away from him to reset her attitude. She needs some more breaks. I live too far away to be there on a daily or even every weekend basis. My sister and brother are there close but it wears on them as well. They do a great job of helping. I feel guilty for this. I do know it is a good break for them to come to my house so I invite them as often as I can and go as often as I can. I call and commiserate with her and let her vent, encourage her to vent, try to give hope for the future, encourage her with her projects and events she can be excited about. It seems like so little.
My dad, on the other hand, loves to be babied and he interjects in other's conversation to make everyone notice him. He can't converse anymore. That was a strong suite of his...his gift of conversation. He starts a sentence and can't finish it. He can't say what he wants anymore. He just sits and closes his eyes usually. He can't finish a job. I helped him with his shaving and teeth brushing and it was comical and horrible. I hope to hell he can't tell he can't remember. Because the frustration would be his hell. I used to think he knew everything. I came to a time when I knew that wasn't true. But now he knows nothing. "Flowers for Algernon" .

My family is so strange. We don't talk to him directly about his disease and never have. Only Mother has talked with him when it all became clear what he had. I came the closest I ever have to asking him how he really was and what he felt during this weekend. He responds to me well and I believe I am a comforting presence for him. He feels Mother's irritation. I am helpful and laugh at his nonsensical antics and jokes. I hug him and pat him on the back a lot. He hugs back and doesn't want to let go. God, I hope he isn't scared. And I can't go there.