A Father's Day Goodbye英文每周一文。愛上了閱讀之後，文筆通常也會慢慢好起來。這篇有洋蔥.....

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我老了，因為最近發現自己哭點變低了。這篇文章是我在華盛頓郵報The Washington Post的網站上看到的一篇好文。為什麼分享？因為作者很真誠。看完這篇文章你就明白，句子簡短最有力，正因為作者的文句都不長，情感的傳達因此不會在文字連結的過程中斷線。這篇文章有點感傷，但是內容非常動人。好的文章值得一看再看，這篇就是最好的範例。

不曉得這次的颱風會不會在父親節的時候撲台，目前也只能靜觀其變。颱風天好多人可能因此無家可歸，警消待命加班，很多動物也可能因此失去生命。小時候的我不懂事，整天期待颱風假，覺得只要能不去上課就是賺到。現在我則希望颱風能給點雨水就好，大家都平安最重要。

教練大推這篇感人文章，希望你也會喜歡。其實部落格上的英語每周一文篇篇都是一時之選，也希望你能透過閱讀越愛讀，讀完了有動力敲敲鍵盤來寫寫看。你可以寫讀後感，教練一樣也會批改。其實寫作的第一步是模仿，不要擔心抄襲，重點是抄久了自然要有點感覺，開始找出屬於自己的寫作風格。研讀他人的文章可以透過很多角度學習：看看文法的使用，內容與文句的結構，可以從情感面去欣賞，也能理性拆解文章架構。總之，愛上了閱讀之後，文筆通常也會慢慢好起來。

A Father’s Day goodbye

BY PETE EARLEY 

Father’s Day found me with a man who often doesn’t remember who I am, although we have spent much of his 93 years together. My father has dementia失智症.

Five years ago, I persuaded my parents to move from Spearfish, S.D(a city in South Dakota)., into a second house that my wife and I own that doubles as拿來充當my office. Leaving a community where they were well-established was difficult. But they enjoyed seeing grandchildren, spent Saturdays at garage sales and played Upwords with me at lunch time. It was good.

I first noticed little things. Forgetfulness, confusing names. It’s part of aging, I thought.

A year ago, my parents’ world narrowed世界變得更小了. A retired minister牧師, my father began hurrying from church從教堂匆匆趕回家, afraid he might say something foolish. No more garage sales, no more word games. In October, my mom felt severe back pain. Cancer. My father slept next to the hospital bed that hospice安寧病房 delivered. They celebrated their 70th wedding anniversary in November. Three weeks later, she died. I learned then that she had been covering for him媽媽幫著爸爸隱瞞病情. At her funeral, he asked if I was enjoying “the party” and said he was sorry that my mother had missed it.

I’d promised I’d take care of my parents at home. They were terrified of 對…感到害怕nursing homes. Round-the-clock caregivers were hired雇用了全天候的照護者. When my father began wandering四處遊蕩, childproof locks and alarms兒童兒全鎖與警報器 were installed. One night I found him sitting on his bed, sobbing. “What’s wrong, Dad?” I asked. “I want my mommy and daddy.” In his mind, he was 5.

The third time he fell, I broke my promise. We moved him into a “memory unit”記憶病房 in Fairfax. Outside each bedroom are photographs. They help residents identify their rooms. A bank executive at his desk, a diplomat外交官 enjoying a retirement party, a grandmother embraced by children. I have learned each of his neighbor’s names and studied their photos. Memories sealed behind Plexiglas壓在壓克力玻璃下的諸多回憶.

Some traits have deep roots有些性格特質其來有自(根深蒂固). Ask and my father can still offer a beautiful, extemporaneous prayer來上一段即席禱告詞. He refused to eat at first, not because he wasn’t hungry but because he didn’t have any money and always had paid his own way凡事都得自食其力(靠自己的錢去購買). The home’s director printed meal tickets for him marked “paid.” Problem solved. Some traits have vanished, such as his quick temper性格急躁and his insistence on always being in charge堅持凡事都要主導.

We’ve always been close我們一直都很親近. I’m named after him. About every minute, someone develops Alzheimer’s阿茲海默症 or some form of dementia. I’m 62. Am I walking down his path? 我是否也會步上父親的後塵(指罹病)

He used to wait eagerly for me.父親過去經常急切地等門 Now I visit for me現在我去探視他是為了自己, knowing that, an hour after I leave, he will have forgotten I was there. I have watched the thoughtful man who offered me advice become confused, frightened and unable to express the simplest thought. Before he became ill, he wrote a short autobiography自傳(自己撰寫的) for his grandchildren. I read him passages, but most days he thinks I’m describing my life.

Two-thirds of dementia patients die from pneumonia肺炎. My father has had it twice since January. Because he is tired, he refuses to do much. Inactivity brings on pneumonia. We are in a vicious circle惡性循環 that I’ve been warned will eventually kill him. Last week, we replaced his walker拐杖 with a wheelchair. If left alone, he would use neither and stay in bed.

Everyone tells me I’m lucky and should feel grateful I still have him. Should I? I feel ashamed even thinking such a question, and yet I know he would understand exactly why I think them.

I was angry at first. I couldn’t save him. Diapers尿布. Confusion. Indignity. He was a proud man. Respected. I didn’t like deciding whether he needed medication that I knew would knock him out將…擊倒. The resentment 憤慨is gone now, replaced by abiding sadness持續的悲傷.

In a cruel twist, the hardest visits are when he is the most lucid神志清楚. “How did I end up like this?我怎麼會變成今天這樣” he asks. “Let me die.”

Yet during those moments, at least I have him back — if only for a moment. He tells me I am a good son. Minutes later, I am a stranger. He needs a ride to a baseball field where he is meeting his younger brother, Harry. I’ve not been born yet and Harry, who died decades ago, is waiting.

On Father’s Day, I took him hot chocolate and we sat outside. Even though he was wearing three shirts, he complained about being cold. He didn’t want me to read his autobiography. He wanted to sit and hold hands牽手/握住他人的手. The two of us. Father and son saying a long goodbye.

u   The writer is the author of “Crazy: A Father’s Search Through America’s Mental Health Madness.”