Over To Soon
By Pat LaPointe
During my years of training in Clinical Psychology and throughout my own years of therapy, I heard that the relationship one doesn’t discuss is most likely the one that had the greatest impact on one’s life. I spent many, many hours in therapy talking about how Mom’s behavior and attitudes affected the person I became. I can remember only a few times when I talked about my Dad. However, as he approached his eighty-eighth birthday, I found myself focusing on our relationship.
From about nine years of age, due to my mother’s neurotic behavior and long-held feelings of anger towards Dad, I became my father’s “partner”. From that time until I left home at eighteen, I met him at the door each night as he returned home from work. I would greet him, hug him, and take his hat and tie. He would sit down to eat the meal I had cooked for the family. If there were errands to run, such as grocery shopping etc. I would accompany him after dinner. I was the one who would fill him in on what was happening with the rest of the family. I did his laundry and ironed his shirts for work. And I tried, in a way that only a child or teenager was capable of, to listen to his complaints about Mom.
Years passed and Mom recovered with the help of medication and therapy. She had to deal with her own demons while caring for most of Dad’s daily needs. Dad’s kidneys were beginning to fail, and his diabetes became more serious. And, even with the help of hearing aids, he was nearly totally deaf. He began sleeping most of the day and had difficulty not only with hearing, but with understanding what was said. His memory appeared to be failing more with each passing day.
But Dad still depended on me for many things: his doctor visits, his medications and his finances. When Dad, Mom and I would go out, it was me who guided him and steadied him as he walked. When we ate together, I would prepare his plate and cut his food. He had lost many of his teeth but felt getting new ones would be “a waste of time and money”.
Every year right before Christmas, Mom and Dad would come over to my house so Mom could help me wrap the Christmas gifts. It was one such visit that not only brought back all the memories of taking care of Dad when I was growing up, but which forced me to really understand the man he had become.
I picked them up at their condo and brought them to my house. When we arrived, I opened the car door to let Dad out. As I did, he said: “help me”. He had never said this before. I took his hand but found that was not enough. I had to wrap my arms around him to guide him to the door. I looked at him and saw not only appreciation, but a tear in his eye.
Later, as we sat down for dinner, I prepared his plate and cut up his food. As dinner progressed, I watched as he took the food he had found difficult to chew from his mouth and place it on the side of his plate. This is something I had seen him do many times before. However, moments later I looked over at him and saw he was having difficulty remembering what he had tried to eat and what he hadn’t. Dad has always been a proud man and I was torn over whether to help him or not. I sat there feeling myself tear up as we finished the meal.
When we arrived back at their condo, I again reached out to help him to the door. Again, he said: “help me”. It was no less a shock for me to hear this again. When I had him safely inside, he grabbed my hand tightly and said: “thank you”. His grip tightened as he looked me in the eye and said: “please take good care of yourself.” This was a moment of intimacy with him that I had not experienced since I was a child. Without thinking, I put my mouth against his hearing aid and, with a whisper, responded in a way I could only remember having done once or twice before: “I love you, Dad”.
That Christmas my attention was focused on Dad. I wanted to feel close to him as I tried to quiet the little voice that said: “this might be his last Christmas”. He seemed to be paying close attention to what was going on even though he could barely hear the conversations. When everyone else had gone and I was cleaning up, he again took my hand and said” It’s all over too soon.” I knew in my heart he wasn’t only talking about Christmas.
2011: In those last three years Dad’s dementia worsened and his health failed. He passed away on July 1st. I treasure those bittersweet memories, and although he lived to ninety-one, for me, his life was “over too soon”.
Pat LaPointe has recently created a community both for connecting with other women and finding “me” time: https://shareyourvoice.mn.co/,is contributing editor of the self-published anthology: “ The Woman I’ve Become: 37 Women Share Their Journeys from Toxic Relationships to Self-Empowerment”. In addition, she conducts writing workshops for women — both online and onsite. Pat’s essays and short stories have been published widely. Currently, Pat is preparing her first novel for publication in 2022.