Time has passed...

It’s weird how certain dates remind you of the passing of time. April 7, 2004 marks a date in time that will forever be one of those for me.

Each year on this date it takes me back. For a brief instant I remember how I felt the day I got diagnosed. But as time passes, I spend less time looking back to that day and more time being reminded about how much has changed since then. Some years hold more change than others, but this past year held lots of new beginnings for me.

My dad has lived with Parkinson’s for nearly as long as I’ve been a breast cancer survivor. Last summer my parents decided it was time to move into a facility with assisted living. That triggered a ripple effect of change that was both unanticipated, chaotic, and amusing all in one.

First, I decided to purchase their home. I wanted to make sure they could come back and enjoy the space that has brought our family so many memories of time spent together. The yard is quite large and is something both my mother and father took pride in tending to. It’s a place that has provided lots of outside time for my boys, lots of learning about gardening, and many family chats on the back porch. I wanted all of those things to continue and so we made plans to move.

The move started with a full blown renovation of the house. We took the summer to give the house a facelift and little by little the boys and I started our life in our new surroundings. 

Second, my ex-husband decided to purchase my old home so that the boys could continue to live in the same neighborhood they’ve grown up in. It was a major house swap that included all of the most important people in my life. The village that I call my family.

As with all new beginnings, it comes with a realization that other things are winding down. That change is happening right before your eyes. My parents settled in to their new apartment and began their new routine. But as the year passed, my dad experienced various road bumps that reminded us all that his disease is progressing.

He’s spent more time in the hospital than out this year and his body is showing signs of tiring from all that it’s lived with for so long. To me, he’s still the guy who tinkers in the yard all day long in his work jeans and Amish hat. The guy who throws ball with the boys and cooks burgers on the grill for everyone. The guy who always has an ear for any problem you want to get his opinion on. 

But the reality is that he’s not. Time has passed.

Now, it’s my turn to take on the role that my father filled in my life. I sit with him at the hospital and tell him jokes to lighten the mood. I play Franke Vallie for him on Pandora because I remember singing those songs into a hairbrush with him when I was little. I cook food for my mom so she has a decent meal after a long day at the hospital. And I explain to the boys how Papap is each day.

On April 7, 2004 after telling my parents I was just diagnosed, the first thing my dad said was, “We’re going to get through this. Whatever it takes.” And we did. I couldn’t have done it without my parents. Today, those are the words I say to my mom. It’s not lost on me how much has changed over the past 19 years. 

Time has passed.