July 24th, 2010 - Daddy's Birthday

I woke in the early hours full of longing, four countries and an ocean between me and the hug I want to give you on this, your 83rd birthday. I have been searching for a gift I can send you, something you would enjoy, something to let you know I am thinking of you and missing being with you, something to celebrate what should be a wonderful milestone marking a life filled with, among other things, seeing to my needs. I am still searching, for the truth is that the things that reach you now are as basic as a touch, a kiss, a back rub. The real truth is that the distance between us is not the miles but your mind being able to access the memories that keep you connected to me, and those memories are slipping quickly. Daddy, I remember! I remember walking with my small hand in your big warm one, stretching my stride as far and fast as I could to keep pace with you as we walked on ahead of mama. I was so proud when I could keep up - to this day I tend to walk briskly where ever I am walking. I remember you with nails in your mouth and a hammer in your hand as you built and fixed and remodeled our houses. I thought you could do anything! I remember how you carried me home from conference at The Tabernacle, my head nestled on your shoulder, smelling Old Spice and feeling safe and loved. I remember you in a crisp white shirt and tie, sitting on the stand at church or walking out the door to work. I remember family home evenings - my favorites being the ones where you got down and played with us, becoming the big bad wolf to our little pig selves. I remember you doing gymnastics with us, going hiking, going camping. Oh how I loved our camping trips with you pitching our tents (I can still smell the heavy canvas one that had only the dirt for our floor), building our fires and cooking those amazing breakfasts! I remember you with a camera in your capable hands - how many of my memories are set firmly in place because of the pictures you took? These are the sweet tender memories that shimmer with rose color and warmth. There are also the other memories...of long car trips with few stops regardless of an aching bladder, and tight lipped conversations and clenched teeth. Memories of anger flashing quick and hot and the uncertainty of what might bring it on. I remember wanting so much to make you break into that brilliant smile yet fearing the rage that seemed to simmer just beneath the surface. I learned to walk lightly, blend in, not make waves. - longing for your embrace yet flinching away. All of this is what shaped my life and helped make me who I am. I hold each memory, good and bad, tenderly, grateful for remembering - knowing now that what connects us to the world is memory. And there you are, having lived your entire life taking care of others; your mom, our mom, us kids, all the pets and people that mom brought in for you to provide for, being the best son, husband, father and man you knew how to be. Imperfect. Vulnerable. Human. And now you spend your time with nights and days blending into simply moments of wakefulness and sleep, locked in a body whose brain is becoming so disconnected that the very memories who let you know who you are and what your life has been are virtually unreachable. Like an infant, dependent on others to meet your needs and where people only exist to you when they walk into your line of vision.
I remember standing next to you in your dark room in Brigham, amazed as you dipped white paper into trays of chemicals and seeing images appear like magic, enchanted when the photo's you liked were dipped into the final tray that fixed the picture and then clipped to the wire to dry, forever captured. Remember too, the way the photos that weren't submerged into that final bath of liquid would begin to fade until they disappeared. Is that what you feared daddy, when you learned of this disease? Did you try and fix your memories in such a way you could sort through each one? I think of how it must have felt as you began to watch each one fade away, unable to make them stick. If I was there with you, as I long so much to be, I would hold you in my arms, hum some familiar tune so you would dance with me. I'd rest my cheek against your soft stubbled one, savoring each precious moment. I'd pull back and gaze into your familiar blue eyes, hoping they would light up, even briefly with recognition that I was someone important to you, accepting when your gaze became distant and vague. Hoping that as your mind wandered that you were walking through the best parts of the life you have lived. I'm searching for that perfect gift for your birthday daddy. In truth, all I can give you on this day is to remember. Remember you, remember the stories I've been told of you, remember who you are and were. I will do for you what you can't, for as long as I can. I love you daddy. Thank you for everything!
Love, Duayna Lee