10/27/2025
On bad days, while the mighty Kraken (father in law George's dementia personality) rages up a tempest, I think about better days. Well, I also think about a lot of other things including pondering the answers to the eternal questions why me? why George? how much longer can I hold on? and does the Kraken never take a holiday? But mainly I'm relying on my own memory for two things; plotting the trajectory of Kraken activity- when did this last happen etc., and self soothing by trying to create an oasis of happier thoughts.
Looking at a raging George, or trying not to directly look, for fear of provoking the Kraken further via some perceived lack of deference, isn't for the faint hearted. Puce with anger, false teeth ranted half out, eyes glittering and hair stuck up at an angle: he is pugnacious, determined and relentless. In terms of that determination, it's powered by the Kraken and well outruns George's physical capacities. An exhausted George, left behind in the smoking ruins while a satisfied Kraken retires for a nap, isn't any easier on the eye. Pale, wan and confused: it's hard to think of him in better days.
Is this the man who sang cheerily on his way down to breakfast? Apparently the sun was shining on Charlie Chaplin. Is this he who greeted me with a roared 'Hi hen!' and a verse of where have you been all the morning? The father who asks for news of his son, away at work with a concerned 'have we heard from X today?' Gone is the banter and good natured repartee: Summer is well and truly over and Winter is upon us. Far away is the bluebird indeed and here to stay is a very new bird. Sometimes the memory of better days is a cruel comfort; it throws the present into too sharp a relief.
In periods of prolonged behavioural spikes the concern becomes will there ever be a return to better days? When will the turn in the road come? How far away is it? How much longer can I hold out in the badlands? Supplies running low, I desperately need to reach an oasis.
I'm only human after all and my emotions don't change with a flick of a switch. When better days dawn again they are marred at first by doubt and then fear. Is this a real change? Can I comfortably rely on this being a smooth patch? Is it a Kraken ambush tactic? Can I really relax? Is it safe to go back into the water? It takes a while to decompress.
Then comes the sadness: as we journey on I know that our supplies of better days are finite. One day I'll wish and hope for a better day that neither of us will see. I guess that's all the encouragement I need to make the most of every minute of those better days~Gabi
