Final Approaches Don’t Have to be Turbulent

My dad just slipped a notch. His dementia had plateaued for a few weeks, but plateaus always crumble.

I saw something different in him when I visited yesterday evening. He got sleepy while I was there. That usually doesn’t happen. Day before yesterday, I had to take him to the doctor, and while we waited in the exam room, he fell asleep in his chair, with his head leaned back.

He did something completely new yesterday. He dismissed me. Before yesterday, he had always tried to get me to stay, or he at least expressed disappointment that I was leaving. Yesterday, he decided it was time for him to go back to his room, so he said something to that effect. He let me go.

He also talked about his dementia. He said he was suffering from senility.

Today when I arrived, he was in his room in his wheelchair. He was facing away from the door. He was not wearing a shirt. Usually, he jumps to life when he sees me, but this time, I had to nudge him to get his attention. He turned and said things that didn’t make sense. He said, “Where are you?”

When I’m not there, he wonders where I am, and he forgets that I come every day. I suppose that when he asked me where I was, he was taking a minute to come out of his daily puzzle.

He was not able to put his shirt on without my help.

I rolled him to the courtyard where we always sit. I had to remind him to pick up his feet. His chair doesn’t have footrests. Prior to today, he had picked up his feet without being told.

Tonight he had a strange delusion on his mind. He thought his roommate, Gregory, was trying to stir up trouble. For all I know, this could be true. It’s impossible to enter their little world.

He kept saying we had to come up with a plan to deal with Gregory. He had the idea that we owned the ALF, and Gregory was living in his room without paying rent. His ideas were inconsistent. Sometimes he thought Gregory owned the ALF. He was afraid Gregory was going to sue us.

I kept telling him Gregory wasn’t the boss and that he didn’t have to pay any attention to him. Over and over, I told him we didn’t own the ALF. We traveled in tight circles. I would straighten everything out, and then he would say we needed to go in and outline everything to Gregory. Then I would tell him Gregory was fine and that we didn’t need to talk to him. Then my dad would say we couldn’t just let him live there without paying rent, and the whole process would start over.

He said something very strange. He said the Kardashians were in charge of the ALF. He saw them as dark powers in high places. I can understand that. He thought they would come after us and side with Gregory.

Who knows what’s happening? Maybe I provoked one of the filthy spirits that empower the Kardashians earlier today, when I referred to their television empire as a “TV slut academy.” I asked God if I was wrong to say that, but as far as I can tell, God is in favor of it. In the Bible, people use words like “whore” without flinching, so I suppose it’s fine to say “slut academy” when the shoe fits.

Late last year, I started getting the impression that God was saying my dad would not survive the spring of 2019. Lately, I’ve been feeling that he will pass before April 1st. I’m not certain, because it’s possible to fool myself. Watching my dad today, I felt that it looked more like I was right. The way things are right now, it’s not hard to believe he’ll be gone very soon.

He talked about getting up tomorrow and going to high school in Whitesburg, Kentucky, where he grew up. I had to help him understand that he was all done with school. He went back to this notion several times. He feels he has loose ends that need to be tied up, but there aren’t any. High school is a place of assignments and deadlines, so it’s easy to see how one would associate it with tasks that need to be completed.

Last night, I dreamed of my mother’s father, the man I always felt in my heart was my own father. I was staying at his house. I walked through the living room on my way to my bedroom, and he was on the couch with my grandmother. He had his head in his hand, and he was telling my grandmother he was getting too old. He said he couldn’t go on. He was supposed to get in the car and drive to the courthouse. He was a circuit judge.

He would never have said anything like that. He was as tough as they come, and his self-confidence was unlimited. He thought he would live forever.

I went in the bedroom and read the Bible for a while. Then I came out and walked past my grandparents. I went out to the carport, because I was concerned that there might be ice he could fall on. When I looked at the thermometer (which is now in my workshop here in Florida), it said something like 50 degrees. The weather was nice. He had nothing to worry about.

He asked my grandmother if I was going to go to court with him. I used to do that when I was a kid.

I didn’t know what to make of it, but it may be that God gave me this dream to let me know what was going to happen to my dad. He is suddenly aware he has dementia, and he seems to be shutting down in preparation for death.

I can’t go with him to God’s court, but he doesn’t have to worry. In the dream, my grandfather didn’t have to be concerned about bad weather or falling on ice when he left the house for court, and my dad doesn’t have to be concerned about slipping and falling, or about the cold of God’s absence, when he leaves his house of flesh.

While we were talking about Gregory, I told my dad we had God’s authority on our side. He said, “I wouldn’t push that angle. It won’t hold up in court.” I said God’s court was the only court that mattered.

I prayed with him while I was there. Just in case, I spoke God’s opposition to any spirits related to the Kardashians. You never know.

I told him he was a great dad. I realized I needed to say that. I told him he had no worries because he had plenty of money, and people were looking after him. I said he had nothing to worry about in the next life, either, because if something happened, he would go to be with my mother. He said that was a beautiful thought.

It may be that I have had my last conversation with my dad. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to reach him. Thank God we’ve had so much time to reconcile and pray together. We’re ready, no matter what happens now.

I’m writing this blog entry to have a record. For all I know, he’ll live another year. I don’t mind being wrong, but if God truly has chosen to take my dad by April 1st, and he has been telling me about it, it’s best to say so publicly now, instead of waiting until he passes and then trying to convince people God warned me.

It would really be something if it turned out God had given me that date.

It may be that my dad is simply displaying evening behavior I haven’t seen before. He wasn’t doing this stuff in January, when he was living with me, but I haven’t seen him much in the evenings since then, so I don’t know what his evenings are like now.

Tomorrow I’ll see him at around noon, after a meeting with the ALF and hospice people, so I’ll see if he seems any sharper.

I can’t thank God enough for changing my dad, giving him salvation, and making things go so smoothly. We all have to die, and death often involves panic and turmoil because people are not prepared. We will not have to deal with that.

My sister will get a completely different view of his passing. She will not get closure. She will probably do her best to blame me for that, if she shows up at all. She could have shared in this. She chose not to. She may try to tell people I kept her away from my dad, but that never happened. She hasn’t tried to see him or talk to him in years.

She always tries to take center stage when someone dies. It’s never about the deceased; it’s always about her. No matter who has died, my sister was the deceased’s favorite person. She has a history of offending people deeply during these difficult times. My relatives have said remarkably harsh things about her at viewings and funerals, and no one has ever defended her.

It would be better for her not to come at all than to come and put on another show. It will be too late for her to ruin things, though. She might be able to mess up another funeral, but she won’t be able to touch my dad.

I have a will, and it says she is not permitted to have any part whatsoever in my final arrangements. She is not to speak before the mourners or write my obituary. She can attend if she behaves, but that’s all. I knew I had to spell it out, in order to protect my personal representative and everyone else.

When I think of my dad now, I see him as he is today. Weak and confused, but full of love, faith, and support. It’s hard to remember my old dad, even though I spent decades with him. That’s strange, but under the circumstances, it’s okay with me.

I’ll try to shoot video tomorrow. Whatever remains of him after today, I would like to save a little bit for the future.