Familius

The Silent Warrior

Today's guest blog is from Teresa Dainesi and our Lessons from My Parents crowdsourced book project. As we have received your submissions we have been moved to tears and have laughed with joy. They are wonderful. We invite you to share this project with your own circle of influence. 

I went to visit my dad today. He lives at the “The Inn,” which is his name for the nursing home he calls home. It’s where he’s hung his hat for the last 7 years as he does his slow dance with Alzheimer’s and vascular dementia.

Living at “The Inn” has prolonged the quality of his life. For so many people, when they make the difficult decision to transition a family member to a place like that, it often signals the end of the road. But for my dad, it became a place that reinvigorated him. The main reason is that it brought him back to the one thing that time and again, has given him the most joy in his life: being around people.

But surprisingly, this story doesn’t belong to my dad. For I’ve discovered there is a power-player far more important right now. This person remains largely in the background, yet wields great strength and influence.

This person has been my father’s companion, best friend, and partner in crime, caregiver, and steadfast supporter for the last 62 years. It is my mother that I tip my hat to for her bravery and unwavering love for my dad.

For the last 7 years, my mother has quietly and without fanfare, visited my dad almost daily. She often joins him for their lunch date in the Inn’s “restaurant” (dining room) and walks with him afterward upstairs to the third floor when his afternoon nap calls his name.

My mother lives in town, a short 5 minutes from The Inn, in a single-story home directly behind her church. She patiently answers her phone when my dad calls her repeatedly, asking when she will be coming over to visit. When I have been at her house and the phone rings, I hear her cheerfully answer the phone as if it is the first time she heard his voice that day, instead of the seventh.

Now, that’s love.

A few weeks ago, I popped over to visit my dad after lunch and found my mother in his room “tucking him in” for his afternoon nap. I don’t know why, but I stood there in the doorway for a while without letting her know I was there. I just stood and watched.

I saw my mother lovingly and gracefully pull his covers up around his neck as he lay motionless in bed. She smiled sweetly as he began to softly snore. I watched her pat his shoulder gently and stand there staring at him, satisfied that he was safely launched into sleep. It wasn’t unlike a mother checking on her child.

Last week my dad was ill with a flu-like condition, and my mother was discouraged from visiting him for a few days so that she didn’t get sick herself. She complied, though it was hard for her. I kept up my daily visits with him so he wouldn’t get lonely and every day he would ask me where my mother was and why she wasn’t visiting him anymore. When I explained it was because he had been sick, he couldn’t understand. He’d think about it and then say a moment later, “But she always comes to see me every day.” I replied reassuringly, “Maybe she’ll come tomorrow, Dad.” He’d nod and drift away.

After 5 or so days, I could see that both my parents were really missing each other. I spoke with my dad’s nurse who mentioned that since he was feeling better, perhaps they could visit in the “common area” like in the living area downstairs in the lobby. It was a large, ventilated area that would be much safer than her spending her visit up on a closed floor.

So I called my mother and told her she could come over that day to see him. I decided not to tell my dad. I thought it would be a nice surprise.

Yesterday was the day. I went to see my dad right after I dropped my daughter off at school. He had just finished breakfast. I wheeled him over to the couch in the lobby and pulled up a chair next to him. The first thing he said to me was, “Have you heard from your mother?” I said, “Yes, dad. I talked to her a little while ago. I’m sure she’ll visit you soon.” He looked at me pensively and said, “I sure hope so. She used to visit me every day. I don’t know why, but I don’t feel like myself when she’s away.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to chase away the tears welling in my eyes.

15 minutes later, I glanced out the window to see my mom’s 2001 white Honda Accord slowly creep into the parking lot. I watched as she took her walker out of her car and moved slowly to the main entrance.

A few steps later and she was inside The Inn. I met her at the door and gestured to where my dad was sitting in the next room over. She walked right over to him and stood in front of him. When he looked up and saw her, his face lit up with the widest and most joyful smile. “My DARLING!” he shouted exuberantly. They embraced slowly. She straightened his collar and sat down in the chair across from him. I watched as an immediate look of peace washed over his face.

All was well again.

I remember thinking, in that moment, how incredibly lucky I am. The greatest gift my parents ever gave me is the love they have for one another. My mother loves my father unflinchingly. She is like a Silent Warrior, forever in the background, yet always available when needed at a moment’s notice.

No matter who her husband becomes as he is molded and shaped by memory loss and occasional illness, she is there. She loves him without fail.

It is the greatest love story I’ve ever known.

A gift from God.

I am grateful.

Our Greatest Happiness

“Our greatest happiness does not depend on the condition of life in which chance has placed us, but is always the result of a good conscience, good health, occupation, and freedom in all just pursuits.”

—Thomas Jefferson 

The Familius Family International Film Festival

From the idea’s inception, we have wanted Familius to be a company that provides content to help families be happy—through books, articles, apps, ezines, and videos. Today we launch our film objective with the Familius Family International Film Festival, a festival focused on celebrating, interpreting and promoting family. We believe that having a multimedia approach to content for our audience is the best publishing strategy for a 21^st century publisher.

We have partnered with Indiegogo to launch the first phase of this film objective, looking to invite an early-adopter audience to engage with us to learn how a market responds to the film festival concept and to invite financial participation in the festival in return for actual Familius products, including digital downloads, DVDs, physical books, and content generated by our contributors. 

It’s a test. It’s a vision. It’s a celebration.

At Familius we believe that the family is the central unit of society and that to keep our society strong and healthy, we need to keep our families strong and healthy. The film festival’s objective is to explore the family on an international scope and inspire each of us to make the world a little better through our own family. 

We invite you to visit our Indiegogo site at http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/186674?a=929424 and learn more about this festival. We hope that you will contribute and participate in celebrating, interpreting and promoting family life. 

Measure Twice with Words

Twice in the last week we’ve seen Olympians return home embarrassed for their public tweets. Sharing unwise comments today has a viral effect and once said, tweeted, posted, or recorded are never to go away.

The craftsman measures twice and cuts once. Why not measure your words before speaking?

“Boys flying kites haul in their white-winged birds;

You can call back your kites, but you can’t call back your words.

“Careful with fire” is good advice, we know;

“Careful with words” is ten times doubly so.

Thoughts unexpressed will often fall back dead.

But God Himself can’t kill them, once they are said!”

—Author unknown

Glad to Be Dad

When I became a dad for the first time, nine children and more than twenty years ago, I did not know what I was in for. The joy, the sorrow, the laugher, the tears, the play, the work, the learning, the fascination. . . the love—it’s been an emotional rollercoaster but the dividends have been priceless.

When I discovered Tim Myers and his proposal for a book called Glad to Be Dad: A Call to Fatherhood, the message harmonized with my own feelings and the objective of Familius. When I read the book I found myself laughing at the comical realities, crying at the tender moments, nodding my head when he said something that as father’s we’ve all discovered, and pondered on how to improve my own calling as “Dad”.

Familius is proud to publish Tim and his new book and we hope that you will share it with the dad’s in your own life—whether rookies or veterans. Every Dad needs to know that he’s loved, appreciated, and respected—and that he still needs to help with the dishes and understand how to spell amoxicillin.   

Except the Details

When someone asks you how you are it rarely is an invitation to share your troubles. Instead, it’s a greeting. When we dwell on our troubles we allow them to move to the front of our mind and those things that we ought to be grateful for move to the back. In layman’s terms, this is bassackwards.

A different way of responding when someone asks how you are doing is, “Wonderful, unless you want the details.”

You’ll find that rarely will anyone want the details.

“The devil has put a penalty on all things we enjoy in life. Either we suffer in health or we suffer in soul or we get fat.” —Albert Einstein

Driven from Paradise

“Perhaps there is only one cardinal sin: impatience. Because of impatience we were driven out of Paradise, because of impatience we cannot return.” –W.H. Auden

When You Are Tired

When you are tired, worn out and the day has been long, you will be tempted to argue about things that aren’t that important. When feeling this way, tell your family you love them, give each a kiss, and then either move to another room physically if possible, or when not, move inward.

Everyone gets tired and impatient. Character is what you do when you are tired and impatient. Show your family that you have great character by not acting how you feel. Be disciplined.

This example will be a tremendous teacher to those around you and will save you from apology later.

“Patience is the support of weakness; impatience the ruin of strength.” —Charles Caleb Colton 

Where is Your Inner Child?

I ate a rock. My cute-as-a-melon, four-month-old nephew was eating a rock and I wondered—why do children do this?

So, I picked up a rock. It was grey (a good color for rocks), perfectly round, and smooth as a baby's bottom. I figured, if I'm going to do this I should pick the best rock on the beach.

In my mouth it was cool and refreshing. I wondered how long it had been tossed in the waves to become so perfect. I walked into the water and splashed my toes around a bit and then took the rock out of my mouth and threw it into the gorgeous blue lake. It made a little plop. I smiled to myself and winked at my nephew. It was a bit of a Zen activity.

What have you done lately to connect with your inner child?

“Great is the man who has not lost his childlike heart.” —Mencius

—The Mater Familius

Citius, Altius, Fortius

During the summer of 1984 everyone I knew anticipated the Los Angeles Olympic Games with tremendous excitement. Each person who brought the games up would say, “I’d love to go, but . . . .”

After hearing this wish go unfulfilled more than two dozen times, I rode my Honda 50 cc scooter to the local bank, withdrew $300 (all that I had) and caught a ride to LA in a 1971 Ford pickup driven by a friend of my dad’s named Bert who was heading to LA to pick up windshields. Nothing was going to keep me from seeing the Olympics. It was crowded in that pickup and it was hot, 115 degrees outside of Las Vegas on I-15. “Hotter than a June bride’s kids,” Bert said as we traveled toward LA.

I stood outside the events I wanted to see with a cardboard sign that read, “Need a ticket!” This worked and I saw tennis, basketball, diving, track and field . . . even synchronized swimming (Why? Someone gave me his ticket). One day a well-dressed woman pressed her husband to “give the kid your ticket” for five dollars and I watched Carl Lewis win the 100 meters from the third row of the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum.

I was sixteen years old and the Olympics were a turning point in my life. If you want something, you have to act. You can’t say, “I’d love to, but . . .” It doesn’t work that way. Citius, Altius, Fortius means Faster, Higher, Stronger. This takes effort.

As you watch the London Olympic Games consider your own dreams and your own opportunity. Do not let opportunity pass you by. Take hold of it and make it happen. You never know what you might see or who might give you a ticket to see a-once-in-a-lifetime event.

“The most important thing in the Olympic Games is not winning but taking part; the essential thing in life is not conquering but fighting well.” —Pierre de Coubertin (responsible for the revival of the Olympic Games in 1894)

stamp photo courtesy of Neftali / Shutterstock.com