I really hate to start off my blog on a sad note, but I really need to get this off my chest. So I guess the beginning is the best place to start?
Shortly after I was born, I was taken to an elderly couple for babysitting while my parents went to work. My mom worked 10 minutes away and I was dropped off every morning and picked up every evening. It was there that I began my relationship with this couple, Nanny and Freddy. Nanny is originally from Latvia and though she was very protective and tough with me, she was never cruel. It was in her nursery that I realized I was not one to do anything I didn't want to and that I would retaliate as best I could. Take naps for example. As a 2-year old, I hated them. Especially when I'd rather be outside in her gardens. So I proceeded to rip the wallpaper down that was next to the crib. According to my mom, I took off about a 4 foot wide rectangle of floral damask wallpaper. Nanny said she wanted to redo that room anyway, so I figured I wasn't in too much trouble in the end and that it was actually a good thing.
Freddy worked part-time with my mother at the Realtor's office, where he did some cleaning for them. He usually came home around lunch time and spent the afternoons with me. It is because of this man that I have any knowledge of anything remotely artistic or cultural in nature. Freddy and I often spent afternoons listening to Stravinsky and Tchaikovsky, conducting imaginary orchestras in the living room. It was Freddy who took me to my first ballet at Bowie State University, where I fell in love with it after seeing The Nutcracker. It was Freddy who introduced me to the hilarious Gilbert and Sullivan. I damn near broke his tapes of Pirates of Penzance, Patience, The Mikado, and the H.M.S. Pinafore. It was Freddy who showed me the beauty of Beethoven, Bach, Vivaldi and Dvorzak, that drove me to play the violin. It was Freddy who taught me how to draw and paint, though sometimes that meant ruining the carpet in the living room.
Though I haven't needed a babysitter for years, they've remained close friends to our family. We try to visit them as often as we can. My mom calls them when she can to chit chat and catch up with the two families. I still call Nanny my Nanny as that is what she will always be to me. I'd feel weird calling her by her first name anyway. I still enjoy the drives down to Southern Maryland to visit them with my parents. I still enjoy seeing Nanny's ever-growing garden and the pets they accumulate. However, this past Sunday, we were prompted to visit them urgently by hearing of some unfortunate news.
We've known for some time that Freddy has Parkinson's Disease and he's been dealing with it as best he can. What we didn't know is that he also had Alzheimer's Disease for the past 13 years, though it wasn't caught and diagnosed until 2 - 2 and a half years ago. In the past 6 months, the disease has torn him apart. When I first saw him I damn cried right there in the kitchen. This man, this man was not Freddy. He was hunched over, almost shrunken. At full height he's as tall as my dad, about 6"2. Freddy doesn't walk anymore. He sort of shuffles around, not able to lift his feet all the way. He can't hold his head up hardly at all and he slouches when he sits. His blue eyes are gray and fading now. He didn't recognize me, but just the same, I didn't recognize him. This was not the man who helped raise me.
It was hard to eat lunch with them. I just stared at my sandwich while Nanny and my parents talked. Freddy doesn't understand the use of utensils anymore and seems to prefer to eat with his hands. Laura, their youngest daughter has to remind him to use his fork and spoon, otherwise he'll reach right into whatever he wants, not realizing the food is for everyone.
Freddy no longer speaks as words don't have meaning to him or he can't think of the right words to say in conversation or what to say when he wants something. He tried to talk to my dad when dad reminded him of me as a baby and the goofy things I did, but the words weren't coming. He used to sing all the time, showtunes and songs from his army days. He used to be the king of conversation and he always had the best stories to tell. Not anymore. He just sits in his chair by the window and stares.
From our understanding, he's somewhere between stages 6 and 7 of the disease. There is no 8. Some doctors say stage 5, but from our observations, he's long past that. Nanny, one of her other daughters and one of the grandchildren take turns every day watching him. A while ago, he left the property and walked for 2 miles. Luckily, the police and some neighbors found him and brought him home. So now someone always needs to be with him.
I can't begin to describe how angry I am at myself. I should have made time to see him a long time ago. I should have gone down with my mom more than we had. I should have made every effort to see him and his family. Those days are long gone now and I have to accept that. But I'm still mad at myself that I couldn't find the time to see someone, even for five minutes, who means so much to me. He taught me so much about this world and its history and I couldn't get my ass down there to visit him once in a while.
However, I am very grateful to have had the time I did with him and his family while times were good. I'm grateful for all the lessons he taught me and for all the good times we had together. Without his guidance and encouragement, I wouldn't be dancing today. He is the reason it's such a big part of my life and I will always remember him for that. It sounds like I'm talking about him like he's gone, but he's not.
Mom and I have promised to go down at least once a month, more if possible, to see them. Even if it's just for a cup of coffee and a quick hello. I want to be there for Nanny and her family as much as she was there for ours in our time of need. I'm not sure how much longer he has with us and I really don't want to think about. I want to think about all the nice times we'll have while he's able to. I want to think about all the good times we had together and how much he's taught me. I want to remember him teaching me how to swim. I want to remember him teaching me how to properly hold a conductor's baton. I want to remember him coming to my violin recitals. I want to remember him having tea parties with me and a room full of stuffed animals. I want to remember Freddy as he was and what he will always mean to me.
