Five years.
I still remember where I was when I got the call. I was on my way home from work and I immediately turned around and drove straight to my parents’ house. I remember how I felt like I was being punched in the stomach…even though I’d seen it coming. We’d known for months that something wasn’t right.
When my step dad was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s, I knew life would never be the same. I thought that, as his disease progressed, everything would get more and more difficult.
That’s not how it’s been at all.
In the beginning, he was considered “high-functioning” – he could still drive, cook, and have mostly normal conversations. That didn’t make it easy. He was highly aware of how much he had lost and he was deeply depressed. He would often tell us that he wanted to end his life.
Five years later, things have become so much worse. There are very few things he can do. He doesn’t talk much at all, and when he does, it usually doesn’t make a lot of sense. He’s confused by pretty much everything.
In the beginning, I was a mess and I remember feeling like I should be handling things better. He was still high-functioning, so I should just be grateful for that, right?
Instead, I was pissed off that life just continued to go on as though nothing had changed, and no one seemed to care (or even notice) that he was experiencing a living hell.
Now that his disease has gotten so much worse, I sometimes feel guilty because I think it’s too easy for me. Shouldn’t it feel harder? Am I in denial? How can I ever feel happy when he’s so miserable and my mom is always stressed?
I’ve decided that grief isn’t supposed to look a certain way.
It’s okay if it’s harder than you thought it would be AND it’s okay if it’s easier.
We waste so much time beating ourselves up and thinking that we’re doing everything wrong.
Maybe whatever you’re feeling is exactly how you’re supposed to feel.
How do we know?
Because that’s how you’re feeling.
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