Dementia Posts

by Andrew Pieper

“OK, love you too, bye,” I said—my standard farewell on my weekly video calls with my mom and dad. Yet the call had felt anything but standard to me. The outside observer probably wouldn’t have noticed, yet there were subtle signs that left me with a sinking feeling.

We had talked about many standard topics and events: church, work, happenings around town, but today I had to refresh my dad’s memory on multiple subjects, things we had talked about only a few days ago. Dad “knew” everything we talked about in great detail, yet he had no idea about any of them.  

This conversation lingered in my mind over the next week. I kept thinking of my dad, sitting there in his recliner, happy and content. Yet to me, who knew him as the witty, loud man who would often throw the childhood me up in the air to questionable heights of safety before gracefully catching me, he had become someone else entirely.  

Over the next several days, after a lot of thinking and praying about what I should do, I decided the best thing would be to pack my bags, leave Texas, where I had been living for a few months, and go to be with my parents for a while. Being the only boy among four sisters, my dad and I have always had a special relationship, but it’s changing now—and will continue to do so. Neither of my parents was ever “handyman inclined,” so whenever I came for visits, I assisted them with such tasks as replacing lights, pressure washing, and landscaping. By living with them, I could help alleviate some of the day-to-day tasks from my mom, who currently is wearing multiple hats, working full time while taking care of my dad, the house, and the yard.   

How long would this last? For the next six months? Six years? I have no clue on the timeline, but one thing that I strive to keep at the forefront of my thoughts is to have a heartbeat of obedience to God’s calling. I don’t want to have any preconceived "noes" in my mind for where God might call me or what He might call me to do.

Just like that, I began the process of closing my storage unit and packing things up. Within two weeks I was ready to go; my van and trailer and I made the drive to South Carolina.  

It is only my second week since relocating here, and already God has given me multiple signs that this is the right move for this season of my life. First, my mom got sick with COVID this past week, so instead of primarily being concerned with the health and well-being of one parent, it has now been two. Thankfully, both my dad and I have tested negative, and while my mom’s energy has been wiped, she seems to be recovering now since taking some medication.  

The other day I was working on my motorcycle in the driveway, and my dad came out of the house, leaning on his walker. I looked up from my bike to see what he needed. “I was just wondering where you were,” he said, then turned and made his way back inside.

My dad is not aware of many things that he used to be, but he knows that I am here now, and that brings him comfort. Making meals, doing dishes, making sure he eats at the right times and takes all of his medication are not difficult tasks by themselves, but put together they can be a lot, and they are a repeating cycle. My mom has been taking all of this in stride while working multiple jobs.  

As I said, I really have no idea how long I will be here. I just recently launched a motorcycle tour company that I had been thinking about for a while. My parents live quite close to the Smoky Mountains, which offer some of the best riding in the country. If this idea gets some traction, I could very well be in the area for the foreseeable future and buy a piece of property of my own. This would allow me to live close to my parents while also having a flexible schedule doing something I love, but we’ll just have to see how it goes and what God has in store next. I’m also applying for jobs in the area. 

I’m reminded of Esther 4:14, in which Esther goes to her Uncle Mordecai, anxious and afraid of the future for herself and her fellow Jews. Mordecai gives her words of courage, saying, “Who knows if perhaps you were made queen for just such a time as this?” While this past week taking care of my mom and dad hasn’t been exactly easy, it has made me very glad that I am here to help and that I came when I did. I will continue to be here for both my parents, for whatever they need, and whatever or wherever God calls me next. 

I’m not doing this because I’m some kind of amazing Christian, although I am my parents' favorite son (their only). I’m doing this because I know God doesn’t call us where we want; He calls us where we’re needed. I’m doing this because there are a lot of things around the house and yard that my mom can’t do. I’m doing this because I’m never going to get this time with my dad back.  

There is a fable from Aesop that hangs in my parents' bedroom that I think captures a picture of who my dad is. It reads, “A trumpeter, bravely leading on the soldiers, was captured by the enemy. He cried out to his captors, 'Pray spare me, and do not take my life without cause or without inquiry. I have not slain a single man of your troop. I have no arms, and carry nothing but this one brass trumpet.’  

“'That is the very reason for which you should be put to death,' they said; 'for, while you do not fight yourself, your trumpet stirs all the others to battle.'" 

My Dad and his trumpet have stirred thousands of people throughout his life. For now, he has stirred me to do the same and fight for him—for such a time as this.  

(Note from Marti: Andrew wrote this a couple of weeks ago, but my recovery from COVID and a special assignment delayed its posting. As of today, he is in Florida working for a friend, but he plans to return to South Carolina soon. I am grateful to have a son—and four daughters—who all care about their dad and me and want what is best for us. In case you missed his previous post about taking his dad to an Ohio State football game, find it here.)