Daddy’s Girl

I talked with my Dad last night on his birthday, and hung up worried. He is getting older and has recently had the flu. My Dad has rarely ever been really sick, being that he possesses the fortitude of a wild ox and the mental ability to be in denial that would put any hard core junky to shame.  Obviously, he has had a myriad of aliments over the years that make it seem like he is aging or frequently conversing about his bodily functions – but in reality he is rarely truly ill.

My biggest worry over the years has been the possibility of Alzheimer’s, as his mother and father were both diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and senile dementia. Dad is becoming very forgetful (more so than his usual).  I have always been impressed with my father’s work ethic. He has always been a hard, thorough worker, complaining little and accomplishing a lot. Even as recently as a couple of years ago, at 62 he was hauling landscaping materials and moving massive piles of rock 12 hours a day in the heat and sun of southern Utah’s desert.

Last year he moved to the cooler climate of Northern Utah and has been out of work ever since. He’s bored, and feeling non-productive. He’s not stimulated and I fear that is why he is suddenly declining.

I hear people talk about their aging parents. I guess I always assumed my dad would never be one of those cases, that he would forever be able to wrestle, and drive a backhoe and lay turf and build booster rockets for the space shuttle (literally). My Dad is one of my best friends.

I was and am a Daddy’s girl. People either assume I hate my father because I removed my last name, or that because I say I’m a Daddy’s girl I have some weird fixation or father fantasy.

Not true on either count, clearly. But I will admit, that the men I find myself most attracted to are not at all like my Dad in appearance or mannerism. They do however, have his ability to get things done. They are proactive and have that strong work ethic that my Dad possesses.

It was a testament as I talked with him last night that he wasn’t feeling himself because he deflected all my questions about his health with questions about my life. So I contented to talk about what’s going on and try to sneak in a few queries about how he’s doing. He dodged most of them.

I lay awake later and wondered how to help him. I’m really at a loss, because I’m certain that he is lonely and isolated by not working and having a purpose to drive him each day like he has had for the last 60 years. Utah is not fulfilling him, but he won’t leave the bubble.

The only thing I can think of is to tell him I need help. If I mention I need help of some sort – I know he will rise up as if resurrected and push himself to get out and move again. I know beyond question, that my dad will help me if I say I need it.  If I asked him to come here, he would.

But I don’t need help. I need him to help himself, and not give up. I’m sure he is tired. I know he is not feeling needed – but I am not ready to have my dad give up and let age take him slowly and without compassion. I realized last night, that I might be losing a best friend and I don’t know what to do about it.