“Papa, hold my hand, there’s a step,” I hear a small voice say as I sweep the kitchen floor. My youngest son has just led his grandfather outside. They are going to shoot basketball hoops, but he’s noticed there’s a slightly tricky step between the deck to the paved area, where they are headed. At seven years of age, my son is showing the vigilance of a carer.
Six weeks ago, my husband’s father, whom we all affectionately call Papa, came to stay with us. He is 85 and lives with Alzheimer’s disease. My mother-in-law has been his sole carer until a short while ago; she had a fall and has been recovering in hospital since.
While Papa’s ability to recognise his adult children comes and goes, his wife is a constant and reassuring presence to him. His long-term memory, like the early days of rock ’n’ roll and of meeting her, are intact, but recent things – things that are related to us – have become foggy.
Alzheimer’s is cruel like this. It isn’t just the loss of your loved one, but their connection to you. For us, the disease has been a dark encroaching cloud on our family. Something we can’t stop – there is no cure for Alzheimer’s. But the past few weeks of having him in our home has made me see something else. A slither of silver lining. Namely, it has been a joy to watch the kids interact with him.
The other day, for instance, I reminded my eldest that Papa doesn’t remember his name. I told him he loves him and knows he is family. But while he is capable of giving hugs and kicking a soccer ball, things such as remembering his name can be difficult, because of his disease.
“That’s okay,” my son simply said. “I don’t mind telling Papa my name over and over. It’s not his fault he has Alzheimer’s.”
It was such a straightforward response to something that we – his adult family members – often find triggering: the moment you realise your name has gone into the “forgotten” file. It is a stark reminder of what’s to come. But to a child who sees the world through hopeful eyes, it is an opportunity to be his best self. To step up.
I learnt that our kids can be helpful in ways that are exactly what Papa needs right now
From that moment, I learnt that our kids can be helpful in ways that are exactly what Papa needs right now.
More importantly, perhaps, I understood that this process is a two-way street. Papa is imparting some important life lessons to the kids. He isn’t just making them aware of what can happen when we get older or sick but also, that love is ageless. By living with us, he is helping my sons understand what it means to be inclusive, compassionate and empathic.
Sometimes Papa will say or do something that confuses them, like the other day when he ate their ice-cream, having forgotten that he had already eaten his. Instead of pointing this out and making him feel embarrassed, the kids simply fetched another bowl and asked Papa (again) to scoop them some dessert.
By living with us, he is helping my sons understand what it means to be inclusive, compassionate and empathic
They’ve also learnt the importance of making Papa feel like he is a part of things: to see firsthand that it’s fine to re-order our priorities sometimes. Realising Papa has trouble following a movie they wanted to watch, for example, the kids would suggest alternatives that could include him.
“Let’s put Papa’s music on,” they would say. “What do you want to listen to, Papa? Elvis? Johnny Cash?”
Papa is a part of our family. He will not be left behind, and my kids are making sure of this. They are reminding us of what we still have – not of what we are losing. Papa can still remember how to shoot basketball hoops, for instance, he just needs a little help to get down the step.
Some silver linings are too beautiful not to admire, and my kids are making me appreciate ours.
