My father has been in home hospice since Sept 20, 2023. He’s been suffering from Parkinson’s since at least 2017, and is now in the final stages of life. Sigh.

The phrase people often use is “You start your life in diapers, and you end your life in diapers”. But as we care for our dad, I kept thinking of other ways this experience is like caring for a baby. He cannot feed himself, so mom had been feeding him pureed food, and even actual baby food. I had been giving him water from a syringe, much like feeding from a baby bottle. Like a crib, the hospice bed has rails, but they are of no use, since my dad cannot reposition himself at all; we have to do it. He has to be bathed by the nurse. And yes, when you lose control of certain bodily functions, you must resort to diapers and the messy related details.

But what really took on new meaning to me over the last couple of weeks was how we comfort him. He is not in distress, or pain. He can see us, and we know he can hear us, and we’re pretty sure he can sometimes understand us, because he sometimes tries his best to respond. Alas, the muscle control rarely let’s him form words. Little is known about what goes on in the mind of a Parkinson’s patient at this stage, but I have to assume the best, that he comprehends enough to make these attempts to respond. And, like a baby, he cannot communicate his wants and needs clearly. We are left to guess what they are, and do our best to respond in kind.

So, I lean over the bed, hold his hand, stroke his forehead and arms, pat his chest, kiss him on the head, and look into his eyes, whether or not they are open. Just like I did with each of my infant children when they were born, I try to comfort him with these actions. What goes through my mind are exactly the same thoughts Cyndi and I had with our infant children, our babies:

“You may or may not understand me, or even know who I am, but I am here for you, I care for you, and I will love you until the day you leave this world, and even after that.”