whoâd walked me down the aisle on my wedding day.
Impulsively, I went to him and said, âYou have been a wonderful father to me.â
His eyes brimmed with tears.
I took his hands and spoke of all my special memories. Then I put my arms around him, drew him close, and whispered, âI love you.â His arms tightened around me.
At that moment, I knew that I would always love him, no matter what his physical or mental condition. I loved the bright, successful, fun-loving father that I used to have, but I also loved this elderly man with his childish ways and sweet smile.
I quit raging at fate and set out to keep Father as contented and comfortable as possible.
I treasure my memory of that day, thankful that I told him how much he meant to me while he was still able to comprehend. All too soon the day came when his mind was so imprisoned by Alzheimerâs disease that my words could no longer scale the walls.
Alzheimerâs Disease
From the ending of Night of Fear:
Gently, T. J. helped her to her feet. Then he put his arms around her and held her close.
A deep love for the Grandma Ruth of his childhood filled T. J.âs heart. He had not realized until that night, when so many memories flooded over him, what an influence she had been on his life. Wishing wonât help ⦠win with your wits⦠take action . For the first time, he appreciated how much she had taught him, how his thinking and personality had been shaped by the person she had been. He knew he would always treasure his memories of that wonderful woman.
But this Grandma Ruth, the here-and-now Grandma Ruth, was special, too, and despite her Alzheimerâs disease, he loved her, just the way she was. Never again would he waste time and energy longing for her to go back to her former self. He would quit denying the truth of her disease. He would quit wishing that she wasnât sick and take action to make her happy, if he could, because he loved this mixed-up old woman with her purse full of Monopoly money and her childlike smile, the one who thought he was David.
Tears dripped onto the keyboard as I wrote that scene, and I still cry every time I read it because it brings back the day in my parentsâ den when I hugged my father and spoke from my heart.
{ 10 }
At Last! Books for Kids
A s my writing income gradually increased and our children finished college, Carl and I decided it was his turn to follow a dream. His hobby of restoring antique musical instruments had become more and more important to him. After thirty-five years in the dairy industry, he left to start a business restoring player pianos, crank organs, and other old instruments. His new occupation resulted in my second book.
For a time, he both refinished the exterior of pianos and rebuilt their mechanical parts. The finish on the wood often crinkles with age, and many pianos had cigarette burns in the wood or stains where drinking glasses had been set. Carl removed the old finish, returning the wood to its original beauty.
Over and over, I heard people tell him that they wanted to refinish their own pianos. âHow do I do it?â they asked.
This question does not have a twenty-five-words-or-less answer. It isnât easy to refinish a piano. After enough people had asked Carl how to do it, I realized that perhaps I could write a how-to book.
I sat in Carlâs workshop while he measured and mixed a batch of his own formula for stripping off the old finish. I watched him take a piano apart. This is necessary because otherwise the stripping solution drips onto the pianoâs internal parts.
He explained each step while I tape-recorded his comments. Then I rewrote the material in my own words, trying to say everything simply and clearly.
A friend shot some photos. I held lights, gave unnecessary advice, and served lunch. We also went to another friendâs home to take color photos of his piano, which Carl had refinished.
When the book
Impulsively, I went to him and said, âYou have been a wonderful father to me.â
His eyes brimmed with tears.
I took his hands and spoke of all my special memories. Then I put my arms around him, drew him close, and whispered, âI love you.â His arms tightened around me.
At that moment, I knew that I would always love him, no matter what his physical or mental condition. I loved the bright, successful, fun-loving father that I used to have, but I also loved this elderly man with his childish ways and sweet smile.
I quit raging at fate and set out to keep Father as contented and comfortable as possible.
I treasure my memory of that day, thankful that I told him how much he meant to me while he was still able to comprehend. All too soon the day came when his mind was so imprisoned by Alzheimerâs disease that my words could no longer scale the walls.
Alzheimerâs Disease
From the ending of Night of Fear:
Gently, T. J. helped her to her feet. Then he put his arms around her and held her close.
A deep love for the Grandma Ruth of his childhood filled T. J.âs heart. He had not realized until that night, when so many memories flooded over him, what an influence she had been on his life. Wishing wonât help ⦠win with your wits⦠take action . For the first time, he appreciated how much she had taught him, how his thinking and personality had been shaped by the person she had been. He knew he would always treasure his memories of that wonderful woman.
But this Grandma Ruth, the here-and-now Grandma Ruth, was special, too, and despite her Alzheimerâs disease, he loved her, just the way she was. Never again would he waste time and energy longing for her to go back to her former self. He would quit denying the truth of her disease. He would quit wishing that she wasnât sick and take action to make her happy, if he could, because he loved this mixed-up old woman with her purse full of Monopoly money and her childlike smile, the one who thought he was David.
Tears dripped onto the keyboard as I wrote that scene, and I still cry every time I read it because it brings back the day in my parentsâ den when I hugged my father and spoke from my heart.
{ 10 }
At Last! Books for Kids
A s my writing income gradually increased and our children finished college, Carl and I decided it was his turn to follow a dream. His hobby of restoring antique musical instruments had become more and more important to him. After thirty-five years in the dairy industry, he left to start a business restoring player pianos, crank organs, and other old instruments. His new occupation resulted in my second book.
For a time, he both refinished the exterior of pianos and rebuilt their mechanical parts. The finish on the wood often crinkles with age, and many pianos had cigarette burns in the wood or stains where drinking glasses had been set. Carl removed the old finish, returning the wood to its original beauty.
Over and over, I heard people tell him that they wanted to refinish their own pianos. âHow do I do it?â they asked.
This question does not have a twenty-five-words-or-less answer. It isnât easy to refinish a piano. After enough people had asked Carl how to do it, I realized that perhaps I could write a how-to book.
I sat in Carlâs workshop while he measured and mixed a batch of his own formula for stripping off the old finish. I watched him take a piano apart. This is necessary because otherwise the stripping solution drips onto the pianoâs internal parts.
He explained each step while I tape-recorded his comments. Then I rewrote the material in my own words, trying to say everything simply and clearly.
A friend shot some photos. I held lights, gave unnecessary advice, and served lunch. We also went to another friendâs home to take color photos of his piano, which Carl had refinished.
When the book
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