Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

The newsletter devoted to spreading love and cultural awareness throughout the world.

Special Treat ??“ Sharon Bryant

Feb 21, 2006

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ONLY? GOD KNOWS

Sharon Bryant

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I'm not sure if this can be called a story.?  I'm going to write it from my feelings tonight as so much goes through my mind.

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First of all, I'd like to say that Maria Urso, one of our new writers is a friend of mine who lives within a mile of me.?  She and I have traveled many roads together in the past few years.?  Maria lost her father just a few weeks before my dad died.?  I knew Maria's dad, and I liked him the minute he came to visit Maria when I was introduced to him.?  Like my father, Maria's dad was a wonderful man.

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He lost his battle with cancer.?  Just like my mom lost her battle with cancer in '82 when my remaining son was just a year old.? 

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I know what it feels like to see someone you love endure the pain of this horrible disease.?  I know what it does to all of us who love the person who is suffering.?  And I know what it feels like to say good bye when there is no hope left.

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But I know something else about another disease.?  And I swear, if I ever hear anyone ever make a smart remark about anyone having Alzheimer's, I won't be able to control myself.?  For that is the disease my dad had.?  For Father's Day I wrote the story, "Dear Dad."?  We knew, my brother, sister and I that dad was facing this disease.?  He was told.?  He knew what it was, but he couldn't believe he had it.?  Neither could we.?  I couldn't believe that?  a man who had helped so many all his life, had given so much to so many, and would have given the shirt off his back, could be faced with Alzheimer's.?  I remember when my grandma got it.?  Dad called me that night a few years ago and I heard the tone in his voice when he said, "My mother didn't recognize me today when I went to see her.?  This disease robs people of their pride, and who they are."

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I've thought about those words a lot in these past three weeks.?  I remember sitting in the funeral parlor at grandma's funeral, watching my dad.?  My heart wanted to break and bleed for the pain I saw him in.?  And though my grandma lived to be 94, she was still with us, in life existing, but in her mind, she had left us a long time before that.?  I didn't understand the disease when grandma got it.?  But today I do.?  I see how it begins, I know how it can progress quickly or slowly.?  But I also knew my dad knew what was happening and how he struggled to remember things.?  He kept saying..."This befuddled mind of mine."

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The last day I was with my dad just three weeks ago, we sat down on the couch in his house and he got out the photo album I had made for his birthday five years ago.?  Towards the end of the album I had made a memorial page for my son, my brother, and my mom.?  Dad stared at the page, recognizing mom and my brother, but he didn't know my son Andy.?  When he asked me who he was, I wanted to die inside.? 

You see, my son was dad's first grandchild, and he was named after my dad.?  I was 26 when I had Andy and it had become a little joke in the family that here I was married all those years, and no child.?  I used to laugh and tell dad, "Well, at least you can't say I HAD to get married."?  But he would say, "Are you EVER going to make me a grandpa?"?  I'd laugh and say, "Oh one day I will."?  When I became pregnant with Andy, it was like Christmas those nine months.?  Mom and dad were always shopping for "the baby."?  I would laugh and laugh.?  I remember a train dad bought in my 7th month, with a real train whistle.?  He said, "If it's a boy, he needs to know about trains."?  Mom was always buying cute little dolls, saying, "If it's a girl, she needs dolls."

When Andy was born on my birthday that cold January day in 1972, it was a beaming grandma and grandpa that stood at the foot of my hospital bed, grinning from ear to ear.?  I remember mom said, "We just saw the baby.....you did GOOD!?  He's a little doll."

And dad asking, "What are you naming him?"?  When I told him, you could see that chest of his puff out with pride.?  His own little grandson, carrying his name.

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Life was good for five and a half years.?  Then that dreadful October day came when a tree crashed into my yard striking that beautiful little grandson.?  I was in too much pain myself to realize the pain my parents were going through.?  Yet, somehow dad was the one who held me when I fell.?  Dad was the one who begged me to get help when I slipped into a world of my own.?  Dad was the one who drove 55 miles daily just to check up on me.?  And dad was the one who told me he would fix anything in my life that went wrong but this was the one thing he couldn't fix for me.

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Five years later we lost mom.?  Then my brother died, the one three years younger than me.?  My heart went out to dad so much.?  And though he never said too much about his own heart, I saw his eyes.?  A bereaved parent can always see the pain that someone who has not had to endure that kind of pain can't see.?  There we were, two parents who had lost our child.

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When I sat alongside dad just three weeks ago looking at that album........when he pointed at Andy and asked who he was......I cannot tell you in any words known to man what that felt like.?  It was like a knife stabbing my heart, oozing my breath from my body.?  It was a pain I can't describe.?  I became scared thinking the day would come dad wouldn't recognize me.?  I never wanted to see that happen.?  I don't think I could have handled it.

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When dad asked who Andy was, I choked back, "Your grandchild, dad, your first grandchild."?  He stared at the photo and shook his head and said, "I don't remember him."?  The knife stabbed again, only deeper this time.?  I had to look away for fear of breaking down in front of dad.?  And then he touched my arm and I turned to him and he said, "Yours?"?  I could only nod at that point.

Minutes later, his memory came back and he was upset with himself and said, "What's wrong with me.?  I know who Andy is."

The knife stabbed the third time going deeper and deeper into my chest.

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Alzheimer's has no mercy on who it attacks.?  I have a friend right now, my age, 60, who is in the middle stages of it.?  I have another friend who is only 50, and they are getting worse by the week.?  I keep wondering if it will one day strike me.? 

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I thank God that someone made me mentally change my vacation plans on Jan. 12.?  I was supposed to go to Tenn.?  But this nagging feeling kept telling me to go to Michigan and see my dad.?  I had this fear I couldn't explain but I also know when these feelings to do something I normally didn't plan to do are that strong, I pay attention to them.?  I changed my plans and we headed for Michigan.?  I thank God I did.?  I thank God I got to take dad out to dinner two nights in a row and out to lunch while I was there.

I thank God when I put a pot of coffee on and refilled his cup, he said to me, "Hey, you better watch it girl, I might get used to this kind of treatment."? 

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Many of you know my dad was a WWII Veteran.?  Just two days ago the flag case arrived and sits proudly on my bookcase in my living room with the flag from the casket.?  Three bullet casings are inside the case with the flag.?  Being the oldest, the flag was handed to me at the service the Veteran's did for dad.?  The three shell casings are:?  One for myself, one for my son who died, and one for my daughter who lives out of state.?  My remaining son was given a shell same as the rest of the grandchildren.?  My brother and sister were given one also.? 

I was asked the other day, will I continue with my "Operation We Care" project for the troops.?  I began the project when our troops went into Iraq.?  I'll never forget the day two years ago when dad found out what I was doing for the troops.?  He couldn't believe I took on such a big project alone.?  I reminded him that he always told me, where there is a will....there is a way.?  And yes, I will continue to help our troops as long as I can get enough money donated to give me a hand to get boxes overseas.?  I will give it my all, and even try harder for my dad and what he gave during Germany and France when he was in service.

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The box we found with the fifteen photos of the soldiers with their names and date of service is another project I am working on.?  Dad had those photos all those years, and yet none of us ever knew about them.?  And now we know what he always meant when he used to say, "Everyone needs to be brought back home."?  I have contacted the Veteran's radio station for help in somehow finding the families of these soldiers.?  I want to finish the mission dad began of bringing those back home.?  I know my dad would be so happy if I can find children or grandchildren of these fallen soldiers.?  And if I do find any family members, I will burst with pride for completing the mission that we now know was dad's dream.

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You see, Alzheimer's can rob you of your present, but it can also tune in your past.?  When I was at dad's, he talked to me about the war, something he didn't really talk too much about.?  He told me about the bridges they had to burn after crossing them, and of the mass graves he saw.?  He told me it was ugly and he felt bad for our current soldiers and what they are dealing with in Iraq.

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So yes, I will continue with my project.?  I'll do it because of my dad and what he gave for his country.?  I'll do it for the life I lived during Viet Nam, married to a military man.?  And I'll do it because my dad always said, "No matter how many things we see wrong in this country, this is still the greatest country on this earth."?  Dad had pride in being an American.?  As old as I am, I have never owned a foreign made car.?  Dad believe in supporting our own and my siblings nor I had no desire to buy a foreign made vehicle.

We would never have heard the end of it if dad found out.

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On earth, my dad is gone.?  I can no longer pick up the phone and dial that familiar number 900 miles away and say, "How you doing Dad?"?  I can no longer drive to Michigan and pull up in the drive and honk the horn.?  Matter of fact, the day I left after the funeral, I stood outside his house and took in every inch of it in my mind.?  It was his home.?  It was the place he loved.?  I know I will never be able to go back.

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And yet, I am left with many emotions since his death.?  I always prayed if dad went before me, I never wanted him to suffer.?  And yet I knew that the day could come that I would have to say good bye for that final time. ? I was not prepared for the pain.?  I was not ready to say good bye.? 

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It was a fluke that my sister, brother and I all ended up at dad's together three weeks ago.?  Because it was my birthday coming up, my brother drove the 125 miles to dad's to give me my gift in person.?  My sister lived on the adjoining acreage, so she was always there.?  Yet for me to be in Michigan in January was not the norm for me.?  Many have said to me in these past two weeks, "Your dad was waiting for you to come home, he wanted all of you together."?  I think about that all day long.

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I thank God my son and husband bought me the digital camera last Christmas.?  I thank God I always carry it in my purse.?  And I thank God I took several photos before I left on that January 16th day. ?  Because two days later, my beautiful wonderful father went home.?  What I would give to hug him one more time.?  Or pick up my phone and dial his house and hear his voice.?  What I would give.........only God knows.

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God Bless,
Sharon Bryant

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1946 @bellsouth.net

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About Me:

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I am Sharon Bryant,? 59 years old and reside in Alabama. I lost my child in 1977 when he was five and I write articles on bereavement often. I am a chocolate/candy maker and also a wood crafter and knitter. I am married to a wonderful man, and have two remaining children, a daughter 26,
Amy, and a second son, Randy, age 24.

My main goal in life is to help those who
have lost a child. My website is: www.angelsremembered.tk

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