Blinded by love

Many people have pm'd me on Facebook and or sent me e-mails praising me for what I am doing for and with my mother.  Thank you all because it helps to keep me upbeat.  But the real praise should go to my father because life with mom was always, shall I say interesting.  Many of you know why.  Many of you know that long before the dementia  mom struggled with mental illness.  It's my father who was there every time she fell, to pick her back up.  And he's still there and he still picks her up. 
When dad married mom she was pregnant.  Some would say it was the times and that's what men when they got a girl pregnant.  I don't believe that.  I believe he genuinely loved her and he still does.  I asked him many, many years ago, as we waited in the ER of the Rockyview in Calgary for a bed in the psych ward, that if he knew then what he knows now, would he have still married mom.  Without any hesitation and a glaring look of surprise that I would even ask such a question, he answered a resounding "Yes."
What amazes me about my dad is that many men would have cut and run at the first psychotic episode, not my dad.   What amazes me even more is that most men would have cut and run at the second, third, fourth.....20th psychotic episode, not my dad.  My dad always believed that mom would get better and that some day a medication would be created that would help her even more and he was right.  Seraquil did wonders for my mom's mental health and they enjoyed many years together without a breakdown every few months.  Maybe it helped that all three kids were out of the house by then too but either way, it brought some semblence of normality to their retirement years and they had many good times together.
Dad kept mom at home for as long as he could.  He had some of the house refitted with devices for mom.  He built with his own hands a ramp so she could get in and out of the house.  He cooked for her, he helped her to the bathroom and did everything that she needed help with, everything.  Eventually though with a lot prompting from family and friends, dad made the hard decision to place mom in a care facility.  It was probably the hardest decision he has ever made.  Yet he still would bring her home on the weekends and unfortunately over a short time, that was no longer an option.
After that my dad went in to a depression.  It was obvious to everyone.  Whenever I would call he was emotional and often crying.  You see my dad has always been blinded by his love.  For years when mom would get psychotic or manic or depressed I would watch my dad try to get mom to take her medication.  He didn't want to ever take her to the psych ward because he knew what that meant.  It meant that someone from the family would have to come to help care for us kids or that he would have to ask a friend to take me into their home until mom was better.  But it also meant there would be ECT (shock treatments)  for mom and usually numerous ECT's and he hated them, we all did.  Everytime mom had those treatments she would lose a little bit of memory and I think dad was afraid that she would lose the memories of him and us kids.  Thankfully she never did.
With the dementia dad really believed that the doctors were wrong and that she would get better.  He again was blinded by his love and I know he really thought that she would snap out of it.   He watched as she continued to fade and he finally had to accept and realize that she wasn't going to ever get better and that she was going to get worse and that she will pass away.  That is another reason why I decided to move back to Alberta.  My mom needs me but my dad needs me too.
Everyday my dad goes to see mom.  He sits with her and watches tv, or he will take her for a walk to watch the fish and the birds and outside if it's not to cold, or he will sometimes go to music therapy or drumming with her.  He always does her laundry and he decided that homemade Borscht would be better for her than the soups they make at the facility, so he's breaking a rule and we are bringing in Borscht for her.  He cries when she remembers something but they are happy tears because sometimes he doesn't remember what she does and it makes him smile at the roses that he's getting in November.  We drove to Calgary in the first season snowstorm to get mom an orthopedic neck pillow because she needed one.  When mom needs cream or Kleenex's or lip balm or more socks, everything stops for dad and he does it.  Then again, he was always that way with mom.  Dad believed that if mother was happy, we would all be happy and he was right.  Perhaps he could be a little over indulgent with her, but, well he loved her.
I was recently asked why I have never married.  The answer is because I have yet to meet a man that is equal to my father.  He loves unconditionally, he is hard working, he is determined, he is faithful, he is enduring, he is accepting, he is a rock when you need it and has always been my mom's soft place to land when she fell.  Maybe I'll find that someday and I won't settle for anything less.  I want a man that can be blinded by love.