“Tell me, what are you to me”

A few days ago I replied to a tweet from David Baddiel about fathers with Altzheimers, with something my Dad said when he became senile.  It produced a lot of responses.

Coincidentally, yesterday I discovered the diary where I had written about the incident.

A bit of background.

I live over three hundred miles from home.  Between 1999 and 2011 we visited Carmarthenshire two or three times a year so that the boys could spend some time with their grandmother and grandfather.  For most of this time my parents were in Awel Tywi Residential Care Home.   
We would hire a cottage as near there as possible and visit after spending the day out visiting castles, railways or the seaside.

5 April 2009 (Sunday)

Staying in Llety Mieiri for the first week of the Easter holidays. 

The tv isn’t working, I’ve read everything I want to in the Observer and Sunday Times, I didn’t pack my knitting or a book, so I’m forced to do some writing to amuse myself.

Fester insists on listening to Radio 5Live which is incessant and repetitive.

I actually prefer it without the tv.

Thunderthighs is playing on his DS.

Ferretfingers wanders around and talks to us.  As opposed to incessantly channel flicking and turning the volume down and up.

It’s much more calm like this.   

All I can hear is the radio, birdsong and the occasional vehicle and plane.   

We are sitting with the French-window door open wide to the setting sun and soft warmish air.

We went to see Dad for the first time this visit this afternoon.  Having been warned about his deterioration by Sister-in-law, Bigsister and Middlesister, I went in on my own first to check things out.  The plan was that the boys would just pop in to say hello then go to the park for half an hour, or walk up to town.  The girls caring for Dad offered to put him in the sensory room where we could have some privacy.

 

I went out to fetch the boys and who should be arriving but Cliff and Marion Carter.
Cliff is a friend of Dad’s from P&D Co-op days.  He’s younger than Dad and taught him to drive.  He used to make a fuss of me when I was a tiny child and I’m always delighted to see him, and Marion too.
Cliff has had a stroke so is unable to drive, but looks well considering, if frail. But the sparkle in the eyes and the smile are the same.  Hope he can say the same for me.

So we all ended up in the Sensory Room and the boys had a little longer with Dad than planned.  I’m so glad they got to meet Cliff and Marion and visa versa.

Dad forgot Cliff had been there almost as soon as they went.  But we talked about him for the next half hour.   

He no longer really remembers who people are.

“You just called me ‘Dad’ and it sounded as if came naturally to your lips, tell me – what are you to me and what am I to you?”

A beautifully phrased question asking such a sad one.

If I hadn’t been forewarned I would have been broken hearted.

The door has been shut now the evening air is getting colder.

Cliff and Marion have now both passed away.

P&D Co-op was the Pumpsaint & District Wholesale Farmers Cooperative, where Dad worked for a few years between leaving the RAF and becoming a postman.