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Area: Nurturing |
Topic: Death
& Dying |
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Article : My
Father's Child
&
Life's WaltzG |
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Underwritten
by ______
(Would you like to have your company, organization or
your name listed here?) |
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SOME WORDS FROM ANNE:
I find relationships can
be complex and at times sad, confusing, and unresolved. This was very
true for me in my relationship with my father prior to his death.
Seeking some important
resolution for myself, I reached for my journal as he entered his decline
and became more and more dependent upon caregivers.
The writing of the following two pieces
provided me with some very important clarification and objectivity regarding
our relationship. It helped me to perceive Dad from a new and more accepting perspective.
This process has continued
since Dad's recent death. Everyday, I find even more
resolution occurring, and more and more, I am experiencing many wonderful
feelings I had previously blocked with my hurt and anger.
by
Anne Wakenhut
4/00/00
Feet that walked
the halls of many hospitals won't hold his large German body
anymore. Dr. Wunsch sits slumped in a wheelchair, too
blind to enjoy a lovely view of pine trees and snow outside of
his window. This nursing home is now his entire existence.
He weeps . . . when he hears music, when someone touches him
lovingly, and when he is aware of how lonely he is.
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Richard E.
Wunsch MD
11/06/14 - 08/10/00 |
| I ask how long he
has been there, and he wanders through the dark halls of his
memory, opening doors into musty rooms where furniture is
covered with sheets and cobwebs threading their patterns. He
stares into the air with eyes that see only shadows and he
apologizes, "I guess I'm not sure when...".
I move to another subject, "How's the food?"
"OK", he says passively. Silence. |
He mentions some
old memories of moments we shared. He weeps again.
I pat his hand, as I have with my grandchildren when they are
sad or discouraged. How pitiful he is. His days are
only meals, others caring for his body, hours to think. He
speaks of two men friends who help him at meals to find his
fork, milk, and other items necessary for his nurturance.
Here is the man I
feared as a child, tried to please as an adolescent, rebelled
against as a young adult, turned away from as an adult.
He is so needy now and I was so needy then. I needed his
loving touch, his hugs, his smiles, his responses, his words of
praise, and I still remain needy, those desires unanswered, and I
hurt and cry out in sadness and anger that he wasn't there for
me.
And now he cries
out in sadness and anger, and who is there? Perhaps God.
I hope so. I hope someone is there for him because I can't
seem to be. Someday I might slip past my childish needs
into a forgiving self.
by
Anne Wakenhut
8/15/00
(I wrote this the week
following my father's death)
My father's
spirit sits at the piano playing a Chopin Waltz. His large
hands are soft and graceful as they gently touch the keys.
Released by death, there are no more expectations of perfection,
no more rigid judgments. He and Chopin can tenderly embrace as
his soul opens. Emotions that ached during his lifetime
escape from deep inside.
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Dad experiencing
his favorite past time, sailing. |
And I, his child,
feel his music enter my heart. The notes are a channel for the
love he hoarded when he feared tumbling into his own human
weakness. I heal as the sweet sounds seep into my
awareness, warming the chill that made me shudder in my
childhood. Now I can hear my voice sing and feel my body
move as I dance to this charming waltz, inviting my husband,
children, and grandchildren to join me as I experience the
gentle rhythm that freely evolves.
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