When Loss Isn't Necessarily Loss

I've written this post too many times in my head. A few weeks ago, my mom pulled out old an envolope full of pictures, likely developed at K&B; I felt like it was time.

One picture had just my dad, well with two guinea pigs, and was aged maybe around his early 40s. I commented that he looked just like my brother there. A few of the other pictures had me, my brother and my dad in them. He is dad to us, PaPeet to our babies, Uncle Sid, Squid, Louis, and Doo Doo to loved ones. Although it sounds like I'm talking about loss, I'm not. I'm glad my dad is still here with us, in his late 60s...well partially.

In late July, grandbaby #3 arrived - Declan. Dad made the hour and a half drive as he had for the first two, Salem (ours) and Nathan (my brother's). He spent three days visiting us all. He called and texted multiple times after to tell us how much fun he had.

I texted him pictures of Declan on Sunday, August 16, just as I did quite frequently, and I spoke to him also. He didn't realize I was still on maternity leave and talked about visiting again while I was still home.

A few days later, he was in a Behavioral Center hallucinating.

It's hard to say exactly what has happened these past few months; it's been a blur, likely from either a lack of sleep due to having a newborn or the denial of the situation. My dad has since been in the hospital, two behavioral centers and now resides in a nursing home here in Baton Rouge. Doctors have tried to regulate his medication and couldn't really diagnose him with dementia but mentioned the possibility of Lewy Body Syndrome, which can't be diagnosed until autopsy.

During visits, he mumbles quietly about things that are not there. His head is down most of the time, falling in and out of sleep. He sometimes looks at us but doesn't see us. He does not recognize us or say our names. But he smiles at the babies.

Although I have been grieving, I should not be grieving as if I have no hope. My hope is in God - no matter the circumstance and no matter the outcome. I'm not sharing all this simply for you to feel sorry for me. Instead, I'm sharing so you can pray. Pray my dad comes back to us. Pray he knows our names when we visit. Pray he gets to enjoy his grandbabies grow.

And pray for our whole (large) family who can do nothing else but stand by his side and pray.

-Jenny 

Comments

  1. i'm sorry Jenny. Our thoughts and prayers go out to you and your family.
    Take care sweetie! Miss you.

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  2. I was so sorry to hear this Jenny. My thoughts are with you.

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  3. I'm so sorry, Jenny :( we will be praying. Katie Jenkins has been through this--I'm sure she'd be glad to talk with you if you need that kind of support!

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  4. Thank you. Yes, she has reached out to me on Facebook.

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