To the world,

This is my story about perseverance, a perseverance I didn’t know I had in me. But as with many things in life, sometimes you find things out the hard way.

As I got older, and my parents got older, I knew that there would be a day when the roles would be reversed, and I’d be the one taking care of them. When my mom passed in 2004, I made a pact to myself that I’d never let my dad feel alone. 48 years with mom, I never wanted him feeling like he was by himself.

As dad got into his 80’s, things got tougher. For him of course. And for me. He developed Parkinson’s and dementia in his mid 80s. Simple things-things that we take for granted like speaking clearly, remembering what he had for lunch, sitting down from the toilet all became a challenge. Again, for him. And for me. My brother and sister had moved to California, so it was just us. We always said, “We’re a team.”

James with his dad.

The last few months of him living in his condo were very challenging for us. For me, it was gut wrenching to walk in every day and not be sure what kind of state he was in. Things we always enjoyed became less fun-like dinner, watching TV, talking sports. It became more of just trying to get to the end of the day-more survival than living. The idea that I could see my dad have Parkinson’s-induced hallucinations, and come to his condo or the nursing home and meet the paramedics after another fall and still be OK after is something I wasn’t sure of.  But all that happened. Several times. I know he was the one going through it all. But because I was with him every possible step of the way, I went through it too.  I’m proud of how much I cared for my dad. It is one thing I will never regret.

There is no manual for what to say to a parent when they see a cowboy on a blank TV screen, what to say when you say your dad “playing” some sort of card game or rolling dice while he’s in his wheelchair, to try not to be sad when his golf buddies would come visit and be sad because their friend wasn’t his 100% self. I persevered the years before that because if going to Kohl’s five times just to get a pair of pants that dad liked was necessary, then so be it. I persevered by learning how to have the same conversations every day, because it’s what Dad knew and was familiar with.  But mainly I persevered because I had to. For Dad. And because he taught me how to for all of his 89 years, up until the very end. I learned from the best how to persevere through the worst. The worst meaning seeing my strong dad be maybe not so strong.  And to try to keep a positive face as much as possible, even when watching my dad struggle was tearing me up inside. Years ago, I wouldn’t have thought I could see all these things and still be OK. He was my hero. My Little League coach. My buddy to yell at the TV during Browns and Cavs games with.  But again, I did it. Because he did it. And we were the best team ever. Right Dad?  “Right”.

Thanks Dad,