How I Finally Forgave My Father

But this Dad, screaming at me from his hospital bed? He felt a lot like the old one, and I wasn’t prepared for the throwback version. While his care team assured me this was typical, it felt anything but that. It turns out Dad’s brain was reacting as normally as it could in the circumstance, given his condition.

“If you or I were in a situation like that, we probably would be very upset,” explained Dr. Peter Rabins, founding director of the division of geriatric psychiatry at the Johns Hopkins School of Medicine. “But then we might look down and say, ‘Oh, I'm in a hospital gown,’ or ‘There's a monitor beeping behind me. I must be in the hospital.’ However, if your brain isn't able to take all that information in and weigh it, the more likely you are to make a suspicious or kind of paranoid interpretation of what's happening.”

What’s more, I had no idea previous behaviors associated with addiction often resurface during dementia. When my father got sober, we learned that his mind literally rewired, forming new neural connections that were damaged during his drinking. Alzheimer’s disease and other causes of dementia can snatch away that hard-earned progress, as evidenced in Dad’s case.

Doing my best to understand the entire situation was my first step in forgiving him in that moment and the days after. While I knew it was his disease talking, not my father, it didn't make the experience any easier. I had to go through it — revisiting old pain and past hurts — to get through it.

I also recognized I’d reached my limit and called in reinforcements. I’m fortunate to have four sisters who know how to work as a team. When I told them I needed a break, they took turns visiting Dad until his release. That gave me the space to process his behavior, and the grace to separate the person I love dearly from his pathology.

Several of my good friends have gone through the same thing with their parents. Discussing Dad’s anger with them in a judgment-free zone helped soothe the sting and validated how I felt.

Once he got home, Dad’s outbursts decreased and his emotions calmed. We hired in-home care to make sure he is as comfortable as possible, thankful we had the resources to do so. Just like back in his drinking days, he doesn’t recall what happened in the rehab center. I choose to extend grace anyhow. That’s what you do for someone you love.

We know his dementia won’t get better, but the good days outnumber the bad. I hold his hand as he rests in bed. We chat about his grandson, listen to his favorite music and snack on his favorite chocolate treats. Though he often gets confused, he’s calm, kind and even funny. This is the Dad I know, and the one I’ll continue to remember.