As his hair got frizzier and lighter, more white than salt and pepper, and his muscles started becoming useless, I realized that the more his mind left, the more he left. The smile that looked just like mine, with the chin that pointed out from below, never showed anymore. If you were lucky, you'd get to glance his dark, endless eyes peek out from behind his heavy lids and between all the unkempt hair on his face and surrounding it, and maybe he would say a name and it would have the chance of being the correct one- but then his eyes would creak shut again and you'd expect him to go into hibernation. As he wasn't very much mentally present more and more as I grew, you wouldn't expect someone to elbow their way into such a large spot in my soul. However, this man, like any father would, had shown me the true meaning of so many things over the fuzzy and fuzzier years and taught me things that would stick to me like a hot poker marking.
The saying "you don't always get what you want" became clear to me growing up with an untraditional father. I yearned for Father-Daughter dances and for my father to walk me down the aisle on my special day, but it was very obvious I wouldn't be getting that. Another saying, "you never realize what you have until it's gone," became gut-wrenchingly obvious to me soon enough as well. The nicest memories I had with my father involved sitting in the basket of his bike when he would ride out to the Amish communities and visit his old friends. By the time I was 11, our bike rides were over. He was having trouble walking and using his leg muscles for other things, like pedaling his bike. I never noticed how peaceful it was to sprawl myself in his little bike basket and feel the smooth and sometimes bumpy rides along the countryside, listening to my father's deep, rolling voice sing Johnny Cash songs that stuck in his mind through everything. It was like chicken soup to a tired soul for me, and the gentle lull of the ride would easily pull me to sleep.
Besides all the life lessons he'd taught me, he also unknowingly taught me many valuable skill traits. A few times, when the rest of my family was out of town and I was the only one left available, I would be held accountable to make sure my father got up at a reasonable time and dressed and stayed up, that he took all his pills and ate enough food for the day, and to make sure he didn't fall or have any accidents. At first, it hurt me to see my own father in such a vulnerable state in that now the roles were reversed and I was taking care of him, but I had to quickly become accustomed to it, as with most things, and get down to work- otherwise we would get nowhere very quickly. The first time I took care of him overnight for a few days was very taxing on me as I was so young with so much responsibility put on me already. However, when the challenge comes to you, you must face the music and rise to it. I had to learn to be patient and understanding when some of the things his mind made him do I would have never understood otherwise. These experiences taught me a lot about dealing with others, whether just comforting them on a peer level, helping them with small tasks, or helping them function throughout the day when they can't on their own. If I'm ever in need of a job in a tight spot, I feel comfortable falling back on becoming a caretaker for people like my father. It's comforting to have that security for later in my life.
The most important thing he taught me was gratefulness. Experiencing all the hurt through the journey of his disease opened my eyes to a whole world that I was taking for granted. Suffering through his loss brought me the understanding of what people really could mean to me. Both of my parents were very religious, as well. Their unwavering faith through all their trials inspired me to try and be the best version of myself, and taught me to hold onto faith in hopeless situations.
Even though I'm not even a quarter through the average lifespan, I can honestly say that my father has changed my life in so many ways. His big, calloused hands, stained dark from the newspaper ink he would lay his eyes upon several times a day when I was younger, left prints all over me and inside, where the traces were invisible to the eye. Although I always wanted more of a traditional relationship with a nurturing father figure, and I surely was put at a bit of a disadvantage with my unique situation, at times I feel like this may have had a secret little blessing hidden in it all along. I learned so much more with my father than most kids do, and I've grown so much stronger. What I've gone through with him makes me feel like I might even be strong enough to conquer whatever God throws my way, and it's opened my eyes to a much bigger picture. However much it feels like a curse at times, I still have to remain thankful.
