My Father’s Gift

by Edie Melson @EdieMelson

Today I’m embarking on a new chapter in my life. Yesterday, my dad won his battle with Alzheimer’s and Dementia. It might not have been the way we wished, but there was victory as he left this earth with Jesus to an eternal life without pain.

In honor of the man he was, I’d share a little bit about him. Where my mom is an artist, creating works of art, Jim Mahoney is a photographer. His gift is to take something visible to everyone and show us what we missed. His black and white photographs have won him awards in numerous shows and been displayed in galleries around the country. 

And this was his second creative career.

While I was growing up, my dad was a classical musician, trained in the era of big bands. He played in the Dallas Symphony, as well as taught music at our local college, University of Texas at Arlington. 

Even while he was pursuing his music career, he was strengthening his vision with a camera. As a child, I remember many vacations when he’d let me accompany him before dawn to be in place to capture breathtaking sunrise shots from places like the Grand Canyon.

And through it all, he constantly encouraged me to discover my own strengths and explore life from the paths I chose. Neither of my parents ever dictated career or life paths, but instead chose to equip us with what we needed to find our own way. And those gifts, especially the courage to do what we love, are some of the most valuable I’ve ever received. 

In the past few years, my dad has taught me how to face adversity with grace and humor. As we watched him slowly show the signs of this catastrophic disease, he kept his sense of humor. In later years, he found new ways to show us his love,  just through the pressure of his hand or the twinkle in his eyes. The disease may have taken his voice and his ability to remember everything, but it didn’t defeat him.

Through it all, he reveled in the fact that he’d spend  eternity with his Lord, Jesus Christ and with his family. It was my honor to give him comfort as he left this world, just like he cradled me as I entered this one.

Goodbye Daddy, I’ll see you soon!

A Father's Day Tribute—The Past Unwritten

by Edie Melson

His world—once painted in vibrant colors with wide brush strokes—now only grays, hazy and indistinct.

Memories, remembrances, grown dim.

Life now, only a reflection of the black and white images he once captured.

Words, once a rushing river of abundance,

Now trickle through a small stream bed

Stumbling over rocks

Stuttering to a stop in stagnant pools of

Forgetfulness.

A father and husband, once a perfect composition,

Now missing the parts that made him whole.

Awkwardly fit together,

A cruel caricature of who he once was.

Time, once a ribbon unbroken from past to present to future.

Now frayed and torn,

Beyond mending, but precious for the parts

That remain.

Experiences once shared, slowly fading, disappear into murky shadows,

A book being unwritten

Day by day.

Glimpses of the hero he is shines through the dim light in his eyes.

Moments of recognition,

Treasures of the past.

I wrote this as I tried to come to terms with the encroaching dementia of someone I love. Perhaps you've found yourself struggling with a similar situation.

Past Unwritten

Past Unwritten

by Edie Melson

His world once painted in vibrant colors with wide brush strokes

Now gray and indistinct.

Memories

Kept alive through stories, discussion, remembrances

Grow dim.

Words, once a rushing river of abundance,

Now trickle through a small stream bed

Stumbling over rocks

Stuttering to a stop in stagnant pools of

Forgetfulness.

An image, once a perfect composition,

Now missing the parts that made him whole.

Awkwardly fit together,

A cruel caricature of the man he

Once was.

Time, once a ribbon unbroken from past to present to future,

Now frayed and torn,

Beyond mending, but precious for the parts

That remain.

Times past, slowly fading, disappear

Into murky shadows,

A book being unwritten

Day by day.

Glimpses of the hero he is

Shine through the dim light in his eyes

Moments of recognition,

Treasures of the past.

I know this is normally where I post my Weekend Worship. But I wrote this as I try to come to terms with the encroaching dementia of someone I love. Perhaps you've found yourself struggling with a similar situation.