The First of Scrolling Saturday

Melissa and Coleen have created a brand new meme called Scrolling Saturday. The idea is to take an old post that you wrote when you first started blogging (and you were the only one reading your posts) and repost it so it can get it's much deserved props. I decided that I would repost my dad's birthday tribute seeing how I just had a huge post about my mom. I started out writing this as a simple birthday message, and it just kept getting longer and longer. It was originally written and posted on November 15, 2007. Hope you like it!

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Yesterday was my Dad's 76th birthday. I went to the store and stood for quite a while trying to pick out the perfect cards. One card would be from the boys, and one from the hubby and I. As I looked, my eyes fell on a card with a picture of a little girl sitting on her daddy's lap. I read it, and I started to cry. It was so true to my Dad and I. It said that Daddy was the first man to ever place a whiskery kiss on her cheek. The first pal she ever had. The first man she ever loved. The first man ever to believe in her. I just sat there reading, and crying, wondering if Daddy could appreciate this card.

My Dad has always been a very sensitive person. Full of emotion. But these days, it is hard to know what he will be feeling at any given moment. More so, it is difficult to know what he will be able to understand.

Daddy has Alzheimer's. He has had it for at least the last seven years, but has gotten much worse over the last two. Watching him slowly loose memory and ability has been enormously painful, to say the least. But even worse, seeing my Dad's personality slowly disappear. Words can not express the sorrow.

My Dad has always been a caretaker, a romantic, a joker, the life of the party. He could do anything. He could build anything. He was a sportsman. He played semi-professional football. He could sing like an angel. He had leads in numerous musicals. He was a fabulous dancer and every one watched my Dad in awe as he swept me across the floor to Frank Sinatra's "The Way You Look Tonight" when we danced the father/daughter dance at my wedding. He sang in the church choir and people would come to midnight mass every Christmas Eve to hear Dad sing "O Holy Night". He was a storyteller. A joker. He was a hard worker. The "go-to guy". You could always depend on Dad. He stood up for what he believed in. He ALWAYS took care of those who could not take care of themselves.

My favorite story is about my Dad when he was in third grade. Dad had heard that a group of fourth grade boys were following one of their classmates out of school and beating him up because he was Jewish. Dad (who is Catholic) told the Jewish boy that he would walk him home from now on, and when they left that day the fourth grade boys followed them. They told Dad to get lost because they wanted to "take care" of the Jewish boy. Dad stood directly in front of the boy and told the fourth graders, "If you want to get to him, you've got to get through me first!" He took them all on, and won. The fourth graders never bothered the boy again.

That's my Dad. It still is, really. I can still see him in there sometimes. Some days he is the Dad I know. Other days he is lost inside himself somewhere. The disease has eaten away at his personality making him vulnerable and unsure of himself. My Mom takes wonderful care of him (which is a miracle in itself as she is also fighting terminal cancer), but recently we have been wondering if it is getting to the point where he should be in an assisted living facility. More than once he has wandered off. Thankfully, he still knew enough to stop at a gas station and tell them he is lost.

So, for his birthday this year I was questioning what kind of card I could get him. What would he understand? I know he still understands some jokes, so a happy card might be a good idea. But when I saw this card, I just had to get it. Maybe more for myself, than for him. I walked out of the store with three cards. One from the boys, one from hubby and me, and one from just me.

Mom brought Dad over to my house yesterday before they were to go on their daily walk. I greeted them at the door and told Dad "Happy Birthday" right away. "It's my birthday? Oh, that's nice."  Dad said. He happily came in. He was in a good mood. A birthday gift in itself. He sat down on the couch and played with the boys. Although he sometimes forgets who my Mom is, who I am, who my siblings are, he always seems to know the boys.

I brought in his presents (his favorite chocolate covered raisins and chocolate turtles) and his cards. He managed to open one of the envelopes, but got confused with the rest. My Mom opened them for him, and the boys happily opened his presents for him. I watched his face as my Mom read the cards to him, searching for a clue of understanding. He smiled and said how nice they were.

Then she got to my card. As she read it her eyes welled up with tears, as did mine. Dad listened, and began to laugh at us, confused as to why we were crying. He didn't get it. And it was ok. Mom and I gave each other knowing looks, and moved on.

We played with the boys and Ben showed Grandma and Grandpa how he can stand up by himself. We talked about the beautiful day outside. I showed them my new blinds.

I noticed Dad had been holding something in his hand the whole time. It was my card. He kept looking at it. Reading it again and again, trying to catch it's meaning. The other cards sat next to him. This one he held.
As my parents got up to go on their walk I noticed my card still in his hand. And I don't know, maybe I am telling myself this in some false hope, but I really think he got it. I think he felt the love in that card. I think it was another birthday gift, this time from God, and not just to Dad but to me as well.