by Martha Davis

Created on: April 28, 2008

From Darkness Into Light

As a child, I was afraid of the dark. Night after night, I cowered under the covers, waiting for some imaginary monster to crawl from under the bed. Tentatively making my way down the tiny corridor that led to my parents' bedroom, I felt as if I was stumbling through a maze of unfamiliar terrain.

Years later, as I watched my father's memory slip away as a result of Alzheimer's Disease, I remembered my childhood fear. Sensing Daddy's growing confusion, I realized he must have been fearful and uncertain-just as I had as a little girl. Though he was having trouble recalling things that happened just days, or even weeks, before, I believe Daddy was aware that something was not quite right during the early stages of the disease.

Despite developing a closer relationship with him during his final days, I can't recall a single, tender childhood moment with Daddy. He was often abusive and mean spirited. Yet as his memory faded, there were times when I saw a warmer side of him.

As Daddy began to lose his short-term memory and recall events of long ago-the hallmark of Alzheimer's-I learned about the young man and little boy he was before he became a husband and father. My grandmother died when Daddy was 12, leaving him in the care of an abusive father. When I asked about my deceased grandparents, my father refused to talk about them. But as Alzheimer's Disease stripped him of the ability to recall what he'd had for breakfast just hours before, he became a family historian for me, sharing bits and pieces of his childhood.

My father was a Navy veteran and sailed the freezing North Atlantic Ocean. Until he became ill, I knew nothing about his military history. Yet, once the dementia set in, he told me such interesting stories of his stint in the military. He recalled watching whales off the port bow and washing his uniforms in sea water. He told me about making the cameo for my mother-a beautiful yet primitive heart-shaped piece of steel topped with black onyx with the lady's head from a silver dime in the center. And for the first time, I saw the pride on his face for having served his country and the bittersweet recollections of being in love with a woman he'd lost twenty years earlier.

Coping with the disease from the caregiver's perspective requires a significant change in attitude. There were days when Daddy's actions were traumatic-he was combative and on one occasion, he didn't recognize me. But amidst those horrible days, there were some humorous

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