Wordless Wednesday: Me and My Dad

In Memory of My Dad
Gerald E. Keerbs
12/31/1933 - 12/22/2004

A Reflection on Father's Day

Image by Brian Indrelunas via Flickr

We don't really celebrate Father's Day in our house.

Sure, I make a big deal about Mother's Day because I want to be a mom. But my husband Robert seems content with the way things are. That is, I have never heard him express any regrets about not being a father. That's probably because, as he said to me before we got married, "I figured if the woman I married wanted to have kids, we would have kids. If she didn't, we wouldn't."

I call Robert Dad when we do things with the dogs like, "Dad, the boys need to go outside for a potty break." and "Dad, say goodbye to the boys before you go." He seems to get a kick out of it. I've not-so-secretly been priming him to be a parent with an assortment of pets and I think that if the universe allows it to happen, he would make a great Dad. But he won't be disappointed if it doesn't happen.

My own Dad died six years ago. I want to say that I miss him, which I do, but not enough to wish he was still alive, living with Alzheimer's disease. Today I realize that the eight years I helped take care of him really took a toll on me too. I still have a hard time remembering him before Alzheimer's slowly started taking him away. It's like his illness robbed me of some of my memories too. I hoped that with time some of those memories would return, but I feel like that really hasn't happened yet.

I also just realized that I never went to see the plaque on my Dad's grave. I suddenly feel the need to find the time to go visit him there.

Then, of all things, I saw someone tweet this joke on Twitter Sunday:

@Jesus - Oh my God, I totally forgot it's Father's Day!

It's interesting to note that original celebrations of Father's Day were actually associated with St. Joseph's Day, March 19, a Catholic saint feast day honoring the earthly father of Jesus. Which got me thinking about my lack of attention to my religious life. I am one of those lax Catholics the active ones pray for each Sunday and I am O.K. with it.

I recently dug up the family trees I possess on my family and found that a lot of my relatives were actually Lutheran, not Catholic. At one point in time, I considered converting to Lutheranism, simply because I am disillusioned with the Catholic Church. I simply don't want my religion to make me a hypocrite: believe in one thing but feel compelled to do another.

Although, to be honest, I really don't need a religion to have a relationship with God.

So I guess I do have an odd assortment of fathers to celebrate and be thankful for on Father's Day. Too bad I didn't realize that a few hours ago. Happy Belated Father's Day Robert, Dad and God. Robert, me and the boys will do something special for you this week to make up for our lack of extra special attention for you this past Sunday. Dad, you are always in my heart. God, perhaps I need to get reacquainted.

My Blue Christmas

Image by rojam via Flickr

I write this post for those of you experiencing things less than "merry and bright" this holiday season. Several people I know are dealing with the death of or serious medical news about a loved one right now. Which reminds us all that life doesn't stop just because it is the holidays.

I speak from experience on this topic: tomorrow marks the fifth anniversary of the death of my Dad from complications of Alzheimer's disease. The Christmas that followed three days later felt surreal. I didn't feel happy or joyous. In fact, the whole time during Christmas dinner I suppressed the urge to start crying. My mood fit with the dark, cold and rainy days of January better than the upbeat and jolly holiday season.

The next year I felt conflicted during the holidays. As with any anniversary, I remember my Dad's final days as December 22nd approached. Those images sharply contrasted with every upbeat message broadcasted in Christmas carols and TV specials. It made the process of remembering my loss feel quite out of place with everyone else's presumed state of mind. It left me feeling alone and unsupported in my grief.

People just aren't focused on the sad aspects of life during the holidays.

Then I remembered a line from Lucy in the TV special A Charlie Brown Christmas:

Look, Charlie, let's face it. We all know that Christmas is a big commercial racket. It's run by a big eastern syndicate, you know.

This quote spoke to how I felt: like Santa Claus brainwashed the whole world and now sugarplums, presents and big holiday feast completely and totally took over everyone's minds. Everyone acts like life suddenly stops during the holidays. The world goes into some kind of fantasy mode filled only with good cheer, mistletoe, eggnog and a light sprinkling of snow. Pain and suffering magically disappear with the drop of a few coins into a Salvation Army bucket or the donation of a toy or canned food into a collection bin.

Yes, I learned first hand that it is difficult to deal with the hard things in life during the holidays. The contrast between real life and the fantasy of Happy! Happy! Joy! Joy! is at its greatest now. It definitely makes dealing with pain, loss and grief even more difficult. You may not feel the way everyone else does right now, but that doesn't mean there is something wrong with you. Just know that you are not alone and it's O.K. not to feel happy.

That said, I want to point out that in a myriad of Christmas songs, I found that Elvis quite surprisingly understood how I felt. I rediscovered the song Blue Christmas in 2004 and found it especially comforting when I was dealing with my Dad's death. Perhaps it can help you get through your difficult holiday time too.

Never Underestimate the Power of Human Contact

Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around.
-- Leo Buscaglia

I spent time with my Aunt Sandy these past two days; her travels from Illinois to points West brought her and my Uncle Rich to Los Angeles Tuesday. I miss my Dad, her oldest brother, who passed away in 2004, so I welcomed the opportunity to finally meet her and her husband and spend some time together. Yes, our get-together Tuesday evening at Dockweiler Beach was our very first meeting!

She told me she ALMOST didn't call me ... she was afraid I had my mind made up about her based on what other family members say about her. Her main mission was to come and pay her respects at my Dad's grave site so she could say her goodbyes. I'm glad she DID call me. We hit it off and spent as much time as we could just being together during the two days she was here.

I have so few older family members now; I feel an emptiness in my life without them. To me, knowing I have older relatives gives me the assurance that I have someone to turn to when I need advice, perspective or some comfort. I try hard to be like a sponge around them, to soak up all their bits of advice, knowledge and wisdom from their lessons learned.

So after a meal of grilled rib eye steaks, baked potatoes, sourdough rolls and steamed vegetables (veggies courtesy of my container garden), the visiting commenced. First, I listened and she talked. Then she listened and I talked. And the funny thing is, in the matter of just a few hours, we discovered we have a lot in common. We parted feeling like family, like all those years of not knowing each other didn't exist. The lesson I was reminded of, once again: never underestimate the power of human contact.

Tomorrow is My Birthday and I Have Just One Wish

Image by clevercupcakes via Flickr

I never tell my age. Why should I? I believe that a woman who will tell her age will tell everything.

~Mary Kay Ash

Yes, it is true, tomorrow is my birthday. In lieu of the presents and cards from my family and friends, I am asking them to make donations to The Gerald E. Keerbs Memorial Fund.

I'm inviting you to celebrate my birthday with me too.

On Father's Day 2009, I decided to raise $1,000 for the Alzheimer's Association through the tribute I create for my Dad at the Alzheimer's Association website. Click here to visit my tribute: The Gerald E. Keerbs Memorial Fund. I would welcome your help in reaching this goal.

I know that times are tough. Unfortunately, tough times mean donations to charity decline as well. More than ever, your favorite charity needs your help right now. In these tough times, please consider making a "micro donation" of $1, $5 or $10---it's the new way to give and show that you care!

You can read my post about my hero, my Dad, by clicking here.

I'll be writing about my hopes and intentions for the future tomorrow.

Thank You Terri---She Donated on Charity Tuesday!

THANK YOU Terri!

She donated to the Gerald E. Keerbs Memorial Fund benefiting the Alzheimer's Association.

Did you know that Tuesdays on Twitter are called #charitytuesday? It's a little nudge to remind everyone that there are non-profit organizations everywhere that need our help, day in and day out. So don't wait ... donate to your favorite charity today!

No favorite charity?

Then

Image by Salon de Maria via Flickr

please consider a $1, $5 or $10 microdonation to one of my favorite charities, the Alzheimer's Association. Every dollar you donate to the Alzheimer's Association goes directly to helping people living with Alzheimer's disease or to researchers searching for better treatments and, one day, a cure. To visit the Gerald E. Keerbs Memorial Fund, benefiting the Alzheimer's Association, please click here.

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• Tweetraising: The Potential For Charities On Twitter (techcrunch.com)
• #charitytuesday (digitalphilanthropy.blogspot.com)

Thank You Ann-Blair for Donating to the Gerald E. Keerbs Memorial Fund!

Image by jaredchapman via Flickr

THANK YOU Ann-Blair!

She donated to the Gerald E. Keerbs Memorial Fund benefiting the Alzheimer's Association.

Who's next?

$1, $5, $10 or more: please consider a microdonation, because every dollar you donate to the Alzheimer's Association goes directly to helping people living with Alzheimer's disease or to researchers searching for better treatments and, one day, a cure.

To visit the Gerald E. Keerbs Memorial Fund, please click here.

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My Personal Hero: My Dad, Gerald E. Keerbs

Today is Father's Day and I am missing my Dad, Gerald E. Keerbs or Jerry as his friends and family knew him. He died in 2004 from complications of Alzheimer's disease, but this horrible disease took the essence of him long before, starting around 1996. It took me this last five years to really recover my memories of who he was and let go of the memories of the person Alzheimer's disease distorted and twisted him into.

But living with Alzheimer's disease is not what make my Dad a hero to me. My Dad is my hero because of the unconditional love, infinite caring and unending self-sacrifice he showed during my time battling acute promyeloytic leukemia in 1988 at age 22. After I was diagnosed on January 13, 1988 at UCLA Bowyer Multidisciplinary Oncology Clinic, my Dad faced my tragedy and rose to the occasion. He was truly there for me.

During 1988, my Dad became my go-to-guy and primary caregiver: he took me to all my medical appointments, he checked me into the hospital for each course of chemotherapy, he drove me to the Emergency Room counteless times when complications emerged between hospital stays, he insisted he be tested to see if he was a bone marrow match for me and he donated his platelets when I started to have transfusion reactions towards the end of my chemotherapy. He organized a trip to my apartment during my first hospitalization and, with the help of my Mother and youngest sister, moved me out and back into my parent's home. Every single week night, he drove from a long day at work at The Aerospace Corporation in El Segundo to home in Encino and then to Westwood to the UCLA Medical Center to visit me in the hospital. I spent about 20 weeks that year in the hospital, which means my Dad made this trek a total of 100 days.

When I was in the hospital, I lived anywhere from 3 to 6 weeks in my hospital room. So when I say that my Dad checked me into the hospital, what I mean is that my Dad lugged 2 or 3 boxes full of my stuff from the parking lot to my hospital room. Similar to moving into a dorm room at college, I brought a variety of clothes, diversions and extras that made my hospital stays more comfortable and tolerable. Included were board games and my Koosh Ball, which were often pulled out when my Dad came to visit to create an enjoyable way to pass the visiting time.

When I wanted something particular to eat from home or the store, he got it or bought it and brought it too me. If I needed a book, an article of clothing or anything else from my room back at my parent's house, he searched for it and delivered it to me. He took my dirty laundry home with him, washed it and brought back clean clothes. He encouraged my youngest sister to come with him on visits: the two of them were a dynamic visiting duo!

To this day, I don't know how he was able to get all the time off work he did. Even though, at first, I didn't want to accept all his help, I am so grateful that he was insistent and persistent with me. It felt good to know that I could count on him for whatever I needed when I was fighting cancer. He truly took care of me which is what makes him my hero.

So when my Dad was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease in 1996, I knew I had my chance to repay him. I used my knowledge as a social worker and provided my Mother with information, resources and support to meet my Dad's needs. When my Mother died in 1999 from metastatic colon cancer, I rose to the challenge and became my Dad's primary care giver. With help from my youngest sister, I did everything I could to make sure my Dad was well taken care of: good medical care, comfortable and compassionate assisted living housing, engaging adult day care and lots of visits from me, my youngest sister and my husband.

It hurt to watch my Dad slowly fading away; Alzheimer's is a cruel and vicious illness. The hardest part was when my Dad couldn't remember who I was any more. They say Alzheimer's is the long goodbye, but I think it is a long illness of forgetting into nothingness. But I never forgot who he was, what he meant to me and how he sacrificed for me when I was ill. Those memories helped me be there for my Dad during his illness.

I am glad that today I can really remember my Dad for the hero that he was to me. I love you Dad and always will!

Now, you can be my hero by going to the tribute page I created for my Dad at the Alzheimer's Association website. Please considering making a charitable donation through the The Gerald E. Keerbs Memorial Fund (http://act.alz.org/goto/Gerald_E_Keerbs) to the Alzheimer's Association.





This is my Father's Day gift to you, Dad!