I've discovered it is amazing what people will adjust to. The pain feels less. I am guessing we have gotten "used to" seeing him confused, weak and quiet and it is less traumatic for me to see him like this. The hospice nurse says he is very strong. We knew that.
He was directing us in some tags on friday night and it was quite different than how he sang with us in the past. Since he can't sing now (he can't take a big breath), he was merciless in his demands for how to sing the tags. He stopped us because we were too fast, too loud, etc. He directed us while laying in bed and when he got too demanding, Mike said "Want some water dad?". Mom and the rest of us ask him that all day long and he often doesn't want it. I think I might have relayed his answer to me once was "Are you trying to drown me?" The completely lucid moments seem farther apart, but the toxins do that. It is hard to see, but he does make us laugh anyway. when we dressed him friday morning, he wanted to see the dress shirt we were putting on him (for giving Karen away officially to Mark with a Pastor). Mom and I showed him and he wanted to see the logo. We told him there wasn't a logo and told him what brand the shirt was. He sighed and said "that's not my shirt" and he didn't want to wear it. We insisted it was his shirt and that we just got it from the closet. He insisted that it didn't matter where we got it, it wasn't his. After putting it on, I said to him, "Dad, I think you've just forgotten it" and he looked right at me indignantly and said "I think you're confused!". Either way, he looked so handsome. He does not seem like my dad anymore really, but when I look at him, I can still see him. I can still imagine him opening his mouth and speaking with strength and command.
I feel like this surreal process is kind of letting us down easy. We haven't fallen off the cliff of grief, but I feel we have taken a few flights down and are resting on a landing. No idea what will come next, but I'm happy for the breather, however short.
I'd love thoughts or prayers for my mom - for her peace and for my dad - for comfort.