This is the story of Buzz. My Dad, my hero and my absolute closest friend. This is our journey as we struggle to say goodbye while Alzheimers takes over our lives and robs us of our last years together.



Buzz is more than my Dad. Growing up he was a big brother. He really understood, loved and accepted me more than any other person I know. He loved me and stood by me… warts and all.



Because he stood by me when others said I was lost...because he was always open and honest and accepting of me...because he encouraged me to do things when others said I shouldn't or couldn't, I will stand by him and hold his hand, look in his eyes and tell him I love him every day until the day he dies. Which, unfortuately, will be sooner than later.



Friday the 25th of June 2010 we were informed that Buzz's congnative abilities will probably be gone in 6 months. By Christmas he will forget us completely, forget how to eat, be put on IV and die of pneumonia within a year.



I am compelled to tell the story of my journey with my Dad. I hope it will help me get past the loss of the one man who means more to me than any other person in my life. I hope people will see, through the tragedy of Alzheimers, an amazing, charming, gentle, fun loving man who deserves to be remembered.







The Lion Sleeps Tonight

Camping in Germany 1949










My Dad was always singing.  The three things I remember about him the most is his smile, his easy going nature and the fact that he was always singing.  My Dad’s three favourite things are cold beer, good laughs, old movies and (okay… 4 things) music
My dad was born in 1932, record albums were just beginning to become a part of society.  Rudy Vallee, Al Jolson, Bennie Goodman were all the rage. My father grew up listening to Glenn Miller, Tommy Dorsey, The Andrew Sisters and Bing Crosby.  When he was in his 20’s my Dad was stationed in Europe and missed the whole Elvis thing so his musical passions were pre-rock and roll.  He loved big band stuff and, subsequently, so did I.  I grew up listening to him sing his music.  Loudly. 
I have so many memories of my Dad and his singing.  We had this old beat up yellow duo-tang with the lyrics to all sorts of songs from the 50’s.  Beer drinking songs.  We would sing loudly and badly from that book all the time.  Christmas Eve was always a great time for my Dad and me.  We would go to midnight mass and sing at the top of our lungs.  Ode to Joy never had a chance. 
 Both my parents always had music playing in the house.  My Mom had a radio in every room and my dad had his stereo and his record albums.  Later it was CDs.  When my Dad began to comprehend that he really was losing his memory he gave me all his CDs.  He asked me to take care of them for him.  It is not lost on me just how much it must have meant to him to give me all his music.  I can’t imagine what it must be like to become conscious of the fact that you will soon forget everyone and everything and that you must leave your most precious items with those you trust and love.  During the last year of my Dad’s life he was compelled to give me the things that he knew I would appreciate and cherish.  His beautiful Pentax camera with all the attachments (my Dad took incredible photos), his Airforce medals and badges and about 100 CDs.  Vera Lynn, Bing Crosby, Dean Martin, Etta James, Tommy Dorsey, Ella Fitzgerald, Frank Sinatra, Peggy Lee.  I have them all and I will keep them all.  Every single one of them an inestimable reminder of my beautiful Dad and his great love of music and of life in general.  
When I was a little kid, my Dad and I chummed around a lot.  He liked hanging out with me and I always felt good around him.  I always felt accepted.  It never really mattered to me where we went I just liked being in his presence.  He was always laughing and joking and, of course, singing.  One day we were coming back from somewhere and a song came on the radio.  The Lion Sleeps Tonight.  The song has been around since the 1930’s and many of my Dad’s favourite singers had covered it so he knew it very well….Tommy Dorsey, The Weavers, The Kingston Trio, but the version we were listening to was by a group called The Tokens.   My Dad and I had sung it together many times.  Loudly. And Badly. And with a great deal of joy in our hearts.
I am trying now, as my Dad slips away, to remember as many things about him as I can.  I have this need to capture every moment.  To keep it and hold it and never let it go.  I have so many memories of his easy going nature, his relaxed way of taking in life, his beautiful spontaneous smile.  Funny, I always go back to that summer day, sitting at the lights on the corner of 97 Street and 132 Ave, in his wicked yellow Dodge Challenger with black racing stripes.  Windows rolled down. Singing along to The Tokens’ The Lion Sleeps Tonight.  Loudly and badly and with a great deal of joy.  It felt like we were the only two people in the world.
The last time I visited my Dad it was clear to me that I was losing him. His essence is still there, his peaceful nature is still immanent but he is slipping away.  He tried to communicate but words just came out garbled so mostly we sat and looked into each other’s eyes until it was time for me to catch the plane back to Winnipeg.  I absolutely hate leaving him.  It rips me to shreds.  I am always gutted when I have to say goodbye.  I would much rather be saying “I’ll see you tomorrow”
The last time I left him it was very difficult for me.  I was filled with fear and hurt and sadness and overwhelming sorrow.  I barely got to the car before all my tears poured out of me.  I sat in the car and sobbed like a baby.  I cried until I had nothing left and then I sat there some more.  I had to go and catch my flight so I put the key in the ignition.  As soon as I started the car the radio came on.  The song that was playing was The Lion Sleeps Tonight.  The Tokens. Our song. 
I still don’t know what to do with that moment.  I don’t know what to think of it.  Someday, maybe after all this pain and sorrow has passed, I will pick up that moment and look at it and try to figure it out. But for now I’d rather think of my handsome, easy going father and remember him singing his songs.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

Frazier- I just found this blog by googling "should I give my dad with dementia beer?" I am sitting next to him right now in the hospital in the middle of the night. Your blog is so beautiful and well written and overflowing with love I just had to thank you for it. Your dad is a very lucky man to have inspired this love in you. Remember this- the love your dad had for you, the love you know for certain he had for you, will be with you until you die. That part of him- his love for you- will be alive after he dies. Thank you so much for writing this blog.
Chris

Anonymous said...

I too came upon your blog while searching for information to understand what is going on with my Mother who is near the end of her journey with Alzheimers. Thank you for writing it. Your words have helped me to understand what is actually happening now with her, and your words are such a beautiful tribute to your Father. G-D bless you, and may your memories of him forever bring you blessings.
Leslie

NoBonesAboutIt. said...

Bless your heart. Just know that they are not gone--But only away! Know that we will reunite with our loved ones, when the time comes.