Pure honey, pure sweet honey, pure sweet Tupelo honey.
A last memory. Feeding honey to my dad near the end.
From my finger in the jar into his open bird mouth. Tongue reaching out.
For such a long time sugar was not allowed. Birthday cakes only. Little slivers of celebration.
Blood was tested, levels measured and meds swallowed.
Sneaky tastes of sweets hidden when my dad discovered my mom's sugar stash.
About 10 months ago, with all the other health issues, sugar no longer seemed a Big Deal.
Besides. My dad never could remember WHY he could not eat sugar.
With Alzheimer's for my dad's constant shadow so many things were a mystery to him.
"Sometime I forget," he would say, shaking his head and smiling.
Somethings I will never forget. Or, rather, hope I never do.
My dad carrying me into the house from the car when I was so dozy from a long ride.
Half-way awake, half-way a sleep but all the way cared for and loved.
Summertime. Walking in the evening to the baseball game.
Sitting in the gloaming, cheering and watching moths pirouette and high dive under the stadium lights. More cheering.
My hand in my dad's on the walk home in the dark night. Feeling safe.
Early morning walks on the beach while others slept in late. The beach wide at low tide, shells galore. Too many to count. I wanted them all. Pockets stuffed full.
Catching fish with my daddy.
"Get it off!" I said when I was 4 , making a face at a 3" bream.
{{I know because my mom wrote that on the back of the B&W. "Get it off!" she wrote in quotes.}}
About a year ago my dad stopped being hungry. He was always full.
One mouthful of his favorite soup and he was done.
"I cannot eat all this," he would say.
My sister and I would give each other Looks.
My mom would say,"Am I not a good cook? You always liked my cooking."
I would lie and say, "Time for lunch!" even though we had had lunch only one hour before.
That is the thing about Alzheimer's. Sometimes you can use it to your advantage if you are willing to tell little white lies.
"Here is some beer, Daddy. You like beer!" I would say, handing him a frosted stein of apple juice.
"Ohhh. It is flat!" he would say, facing a face.
"We will buy you more," I would lie cheerfully, handing him a bit of cheddar.
With my dad. Raking oak leaves into piles. Jumping. Playing with my little sister in the piles. Rolling in them. Itching and laughing from it all. Leaf bits on my pillow in the morning.
Throwing a baseball in our front yard. My hand lost inside a leather mit 8 sizes too large. I can smell it now.
Teaching me to ride a 2-wheeler in our sloping drive-way.
"You can do it!" echos still in all I try.
Building a kite from balsa and newspapers. Waiting for the white glue to dry. Learning how to wait. Winding the string into a ball.
Walking to the open field near our house to fly the kite away from power-lines.
Always safely looked over. Always loving encouraged.
"No,these biscuits are not too dry," he would lie to me when I was working on my cooking badge. The biscuits turning to dust under his gentle touch.
"These biscuits are just right!" my daddy would say, telling me a little white lie.
And so near the end, when I knew The End was standing down the hall I fed my daddy sugar. Little bits of sweetness as his stomach was always so full for too much.
Maybe too full from too much life, too much pain, too much forgetfulness.
I don't know. I think he was just done.
October 29, 1923 February 21, 2009
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So on this Day of the Dead I remember my daddy. I remember all these things--->the beach, the bike, the ball, the kite. Plus more.
My head and heart are filled with the natural sweetness of shared experiences stretched over a life time. My head and my heart are just the right amount of full.
I remember feeding my daddy pure honey, pure sweet honey, pure sweet Tupelo honey from my finger stuck into a jar. I remember his face so happy to taste sugar.
Such a better memory that feeding him sugar-free, lime jello from a little plastic cup.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Other Dia de Bloglandia postings are listed HERE
You will want to visit them all.
Oh, Some Pink. I love you.
My heart just opened a courtyard, beachfront view, just for you...and Max. He's there now, drinking beer and eating honey. And you all are contemplating fishing, and the leaves are falling.
Lovely beauty. Happy Celebrating....
(me 2)
Posted by: Rhonda Roo | November 01, 2009 at 11:06 AM
oh honey...you and the tupelo kind. So beautiful, this loving tribute to your daddy. He is smiling down on you.
x..x
steph
p.s.
here is the link to this years posts, they are on the right side bar at the button. I am working feverishly to update :)
http://rodrigvitzstyle.typepad.com/rodrigvitz_style/dia-de-bloglandia-2009.html
Posted by: Stephanie | November 01, 2009 at 11:35 AM
Tears are flowing down my face as I have just read your post and remembered my own Daddy's last days.....what a beautiful way to remember him and remind others of the love that goes on.......
xoxo
Posted by: Lee Anne "Nikki" Ghilain | November 01, 2009 at 12:21 PM
This, dear SPF, was a most loving tribute, one he is smiling about right now.The knowing you keep these sweet memories in your heart at all times will make his wings open ever wider....to embrace everything you were, are and yet to be!
XOXOXOXO
Lisa
Posted by: Lisa Oceandreamer | November 01, 2009 at 12:29 PM
So touching...wonderful memories.
Posted by: Sharon | November 01, 2009 at 01:21 PM
Hey. Hugs to you. A tear or two. Life is so bittersweet.
A wonderful tribute.
Posted by: Chris | November 01, 2009 at 01:28 PM