Hi Fayester1979
I know EXACTLY what you are going through, and I really feel for you. My dad has very recently been diagnosed with dementia (we are still waiting for an MRI to confirm the type of dementia, but as we have early-onset AD in the family tree we know what the answer is likely to be
)
My dad is almost 60; my sister and I are his main 'carers' (I use the quotes because he hasn't really got to a stage where he needs proper 'caring', but technically we look out for him, make sure he pays his bills, attend the doctors appointments etc etc) and we are 27 and 29. I have cried so hard over the 'loss' of my dad, even though he is still with us (and still more or less himself, thank goodness, for the time being). As far as I am concerned, I am bereaved; and it is so hard for anyone else to understand why I feel that way, as all they see is "Oh her dad's ill; well that's a shame, but lots of people's dads get ill, why is she taking it so badly?" They don't understand what it means for my dad and for us. Part of the pain for me is that my dad doesn't deserve this; he had to nurse his own mother through AD, and now is rewarded like this? He was the BEST dad as we were growing up: always there for us, read us stories at night, even sang to us, and he is my total and utter hero. My first thought when I realised he was ill was "please god not this; I can take anything you want to throw at me, anything at all; but don't do this to my dad". Any other person in my life; any other disease. But not this.
The good news is, I have found some internal strength I never knew I had, and I am coping, and I really, really hope you will find some strength too. I was completely at rock bottom; broken, devasted. But I needed to look after my dad and I couldn't do that in the state I was in, and somehow, that thought was enough to pull me out of it. And I can smile again. Sure, I have my share of tears too, but I feel human again, and I know my dad needs me there to help him through it, so I will be.
Another thing that helped was a night out I shared with my dad recently, just the two of us. I took him to an outdoor classical music concert, and he was in his element; he absolutely adored it. We talked openly about what is happening to him and how it has and will change things, and it was like therapy, it really was. I came away finally understanding how it feels to be him, what he is going through, and crucially, how to help him. But more importantly, we laughed; so hard I thought I'd burst. I realised that this isn't the end of my dad, I just have to get used to a few changes and adjust to them. And later, there'll be a few more changes, and so on, in gradual little steps which, each on their own, are not that hard to take. But I will not simply wake up one morning without my dad, like 99% of the world sadly does. He will be there, in some form, until eventually there will be so little left that it will be less painful to say goodbye, and I will know that I have said goodbye properly and have no regrets. Even the darkest of clouds have a silver lining, if you look hard enough. I hope you can find yours xxxxxxxxxxxxx