In 2006 my Oma and Opa happily celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary and here is where my Opa was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease or more commonly known as dementia after not believing that is was there 50th wedding anniversary, after putting his dinner in the cupboard and beer's in the dishwasher. The following story was written by my cousin Kate and myself after realising that something wasn't right to the once, most loving, kind and gentle man anyone could have ever known.
He sat at the table outside, looking out at the pool and rolling his tobacco. The sun was shining, the birds were twittering, it was a beautiful day. Yet something was bothering him. His wife had asked him to do something, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember. Frustration took over. It was easier not thinking about the present, the past was where the memories were. But try as he might, he couldn’t escape the present completely and while so many blissful moments faded away, moments that could have made everything seem not so bad, it was the unpleasant moments that remained, those that were clouded with his thoughts of paranoia and suspicion. When his wife talked on the phone, why did she speak so softly? When things went missing from where he had left them. Who would have moved them? When he wasn’t allowed to leave the house, why wouldn’t his wife give him the keys to the car? But most of all was the fear, because he was still aware enough to know that his mind was slipping and that this was hurting all those he loved most.
The phone rang inside and he got up to answer it. “Hello… hello…” No answer. He hung up.
“Who was it Hans?” His wife came in to the room.
“There was no one.” He stared at the phone confused. It rang again. This time his wife answered. Hans watched as his wife began speaking to the phantom caller. “It’s Lin, Hans.” His wife told him when she saw his doubtful look.
“Who?”
“Lin… your daughter.” His wife sighed and went to sit in the other room away from him. Suspicion washed over him as he hurried into his office to listen to their conversation on the other phone. He was only able to hear half of what they were saying but it was enough for him to understand. His wife was complaining about him and together they were plotting against him, trying to send him away. He sat there for another 10 minutes before he realised they had hung up.
“Hans!” his wife called. “It’s time to go.” It was happening. They were sending him away now. He wouldn’t go. But even as he thought this he knew it was useless. He had no power over what happened to him anymore. His wife walked into the room with a smile that he automatically distrusted. She was happy that he was going away.
“The bus is here, Hans.”
“Bus to where?” Maybe there was still a way out of it. His wife sighed again. They went through the same thing every week. “The bus for your Alzheimer’s group.”
As they pulled up to the island Hans had one of his rare moments of clarity. This was the island he had taken his grandchildren to when they were younger and which they had nicknamed ‘Opa’s Island’. He remembered a day, a couple of years ago, where him and his wife and four grandchildren had hired a boat and gone fishing around the island. It was around the same time that he had been diagnosed with Alzheimer disease. He heard someone say that they had arrived at McArthur Island. “No.” He contradicted them. “This is Opa’s Island.”
Four months later, Hans kicked his toe on something as he walked into his lounge room. Except... where was the lounge...? the TV...? the coffee table…? There were just a few boxes. He glanced outside and saw a group of people sitting around the table conversing in low whispers. As he opened the sliding door their voices abruptly stopped and their eyes turned to him, staring. “Are you ready to go, dad?” One of them asked. This was it. They had come to take him away. He took a step back running into the door. “NO! I’m not going. You can’t make me go!” He yelled at them. He tried to get away but hands grabbed him, holding him back. They were trying to calm him, make him come quietly. He started to struggle but then froze.
In his moment of lucidity he looked around at them all, at each and every face and for the first time saw them. They were not strangers. He saw his two daughters and their husbands, he saw his grandchildren and finally he saw his wife. This was his family. A memory of his 65th birthday came to the forefront of his thoughts in that moment, of him arriving home from his motorbike joy ride to his family waving and smiling and cheering him. They were not trying to get rid of him, they were helping him. They were not putting him away but were taking care of him. And his wife, his beautiful wife, was not deserting him but joining him, taking the next step of their life together. It didn’t matter that they were going to a retirement village or that he may not even remember this moment tomorrow. Hans Vanderwel belonged in the heart of each and every person in his family. For now he was content.
Sadly on Monday, the 7th of December 2009, we had to say good-bye to not only an Opa, a father, a brother, a son, a friend or a captain but to a man loved by so many people. Even though he's gone I believe all those memories not only I have but also my sister, brother and cousin have of my Opa taking us to the super bee, ginger factory, and Opa's Island will remain in our hearts and minds forever and ever.
Rest In Peace Opa,
We miss you.
07.12.2009 <3
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