Sad Dad

My father--now 93, retired, and suffering from non-Alzheimer's dementia--was very successful in his career. He won awards, raised his kids in affluence, traveled the world. But he had the misfortune to have started out in his career with three other men who went on to become not just rich, not just famous, but household names. Every single one of you who is reading this knows all three names. My father never recovered from their mega-success. For decades he brooded on it, gnawed on it, raged at it. When one of them spoke in the press about the project they had all started on and failed to mention him, or did not give him sufficient credit for what they had all created together, he would call them up and rage at them on the phone, guaranteeing an end to what might have been lifelong friendships. This is sad enough. What is sadder is that now, with 90% of his memory gone, the faces of his grandchildren only vaguely familiar to him, unable to read a newspaper or carry on more than the simplest conversation, he still remembers, and talks about, and broods on, and gnaws on, the three famous friends and how much more successful they became than he did. Yesterday he told me that he wakes up in the middle of the night and tries to think of anything about himself that makes him important. I tried to tell him that nobody is important, everybody is just a normal person living their life and getting by, because I knew where this was going, but he said no, no, and mentioned the name of one of the three friends, and said "He's an immortal." All of this detailed recall from a man who, just after eating dinner, will ask when he's going to have his dinner. And here is what is sadder yet: I talked to him about all the other projects he has worked on through the years, the awards he has won, the beautiful things he has created. But all he remembers is the work he did in the early 50's with three men who went on to become immortals. He has, it now appears, no recollection of anything else he did for the rest of his career.

Here's where all this really hits home for me:

I also started out in my career with somebody who has gone on to become more famous and successful than I am. And in my case, it's my brother.

He has a new project out that is getting all sorts of attention in the press and last week my mother said "I have a question and I hope it doesn't offend you." And then proceeded to ask, "All this hoopla around your brother, does it bother you? Does it give you a twinge?"

And you know what? The answer was honestly no. At first I couldn't figure out why it was no. And then I realized: years ago I took a vow not to carry on my father's sickness and sadness. I prayed to be released from it. And apparently the vow and the prayer worked.

Thank God. Literally.

I'll tell you what did bother me, and did give me a twinge: the fact that my mother would ask me that question.

But that's another story.