Catching up with a memory

I remember my grandmother's summer visits vividly. She and my great aunt would travel from hot and humid New York to warm yet mild in comparison Pacific Northwest. They lived with us, babysat us, and played with us all summer long. There were card and board games, crossword puzzles in the sun, making cookies, walks in the park, and they would sit on lawn chairs and watch us ride our bikes up and down the street cheering us as we went by. 

As time went on, my brother and I became the caretakers. Slowly, dementia took hold of the once vibrant and sharp as a tack Grandma Anne (for whom i am named) and she became easily confused. At times her inability to recall things that should be simple, infuriated her so much that she would lash out at us. Thankfully we were young and quick to dodge the cane and forgive the outbursts. She never stopped loving us, of that we were sure. But every subsequent year, she would arrive....diminished in some way. 

After she passed away, my Great Aunt Clair (with whom i share many characteristics) continued her visits for several years until we began to see the glimmers of dementia again. Soon after, it took a strong hold and she stopped visiting in summer. There were no more marathons of Uno games (where she would cheat, even against us kids) or sitting on the piano playing one hand correctly and flapping the other against the keys just make noise while she and i sang at the top of our lungs in sheer glee. No more phrases in other languages that were dubious in origin, no more random jigs of happiness, and no more tea and cookies while we watched Perry Mason. She also died about seven years ago.

Since then I've tried to shove the trepidation to the back of my mind as my father has gotten older. I've always worried that he might follow in their footsteps. But if i didn't think about it, it wouldn't happen right?

Rationally, I know my parents aren't immortal. But to the eyes of Daddy's Little Helper, Dad is mightier than any superhero, impervious to any ailment and stronger than any machine. 

So when it takes him twenty minutes to solve a problem even I can do in mere seconds thanks to what he, himself, taught me....that trepidation creeps back to the forefront of my mind. Will he diminish the way the Grandma and Aunt Claire did? Will i have to face that again? Am I ready to do things without his wisdom and insight.

The answer to the last question was a painful "Yes". My father was becoming frustrated by a problem with my end tables. It vexed him so much that he told me he needed a break and went upstairs. I had already been on hold with the tables for a month and was far from tired with the project for that day. I already knew the answer, almost instinctively. The years of working by his side on various projects made the solution light up in my mind light a spotlight. I knew what to do and how to do it. But I was scared to do it without him. 

I left and proceeded to wrestle with myself for a couple days. The rational side of me demanded that i not delay on the end tables any more. The emotional side of me felt like just sitting down for a good cry. Finally, i mentally gave myself a good shake and went back when dad wasn't there. My mom offered to help if i needed it but i was determined to stand on my own two feet. 

In the next hour, i churned out the remaining cuts needed to complete the legs of the tables. This included complicated angles, setting up angle jigs, and drilling holes. This was the part that i had convinced myself that i would need my father's help for. I thought maybe, if i did it alone, i could banish this feeling of inadequacy at filling his role. When it was done, i had hoped i would feel better, but i didn't. I missed having him there to make doubly sure i didn't make a mistake. In the end, i didn't but i kept thinking i had done something wrong. I didn't feel the "right-ness" that usually accompanied my furniture building. When I told dad the next day where the tables were at now...he was genuinely surprised. He kept saying "That's great!" but it still didn't make me feel better. 

Even after the weekend, I'm not sure how i feel.