From a young age, I found solace in the Serenity Prayer, even before I understood its origins. “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” This powerful mantra became a guiding force throughout my teenage years and into adulthood.
My father struggled with alcoholism for as long as I can remember. There were good years when he stayed sober, but those were often followed by times when he would slip back into his old habits. During my childhood, my brother and I recognized that his behavior was problematic. I distinctly recall stopping at a bar before school, claiming it was my grandfather’s old place. I had a strong hunch that there was something more potent in his coffee. He would drink during lunch and pick us up from sports, creating an uneasy atmosphere. We occasionally contemplated getting out and walking, but we knew that saying anything could provoke an explosive reaction. Fortunately, we emerged from those years relatively unscathed.
When I became a parent, I drew from those vivid memories to establish boundaries. I had to tell my father that he could no longer drive my son around while intoxicated. He could do so with his own children, but those days were behind us. That conversation marked a turning point for both of us. It was a moment filled with denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and eventual acceptance. Dad agreed to return to Alcoholics Anonymous, but I was skeptical given the history. Nevertheless, he faced his demons and, for a time, managed to overcome them.
However, shortly after regaining his sobriety, we began to notice troubling signs. Forgetfulness and repetitive conversations became commonplace, which we initially attributed to the absence of alcohol after so many years. Unfortunately, the situation deteriorated, and he was eventually diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease—a cruel affliction that, like alcoholism, robs you of the person you once knew.
Alzheimer’s is a relentless disease that often garners more sympathy than alcoholism, yet both are linked to genetics. It is heartbreaking to witness my father, who fought valiantly against one ailment, succumb to another. My mother faced an unimaginable burden of caring for her partner twice over. Why did this happen to them? Why us?
As we navigate this difficult chapter, I recently assisted my mother in admitting him to a memory care facility. His days are predominantly filled with confusion and falls, one of which necessitated a hospital visit. He calls us incessantly, having the same brief conversations over and over. We should consider ourselves fortunate, though, as our time for these repetitive exchanges is dwindling.
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In summary, my father’s journey from battling alcoholism to facing Alzheimer’s has been a heartbreaking yet formative experience. As we confront these challenges, we must hold onto the moments of clarity and connection, even amidst the turmoil.