Control Thy Anger

October 28, 2011

Yesterday, Dad yelled at Jordyn. I had just picked the kids up from the bus stop and sent them upstairs to fix an after-school snack. I stopped to cycle laundry. Suddenly, I heard Dad’s voice, obviously agitated. I stopped what I was doing and headed upstairs. Dad asked Jordyn, “What is that?” as I came around the corner. Jordyn said, “What, Pop, the microwave?”
I was just in time to see Dad whirl around and step in front of Jordyn. “Don’t be disrespectful, Smartass, I know that’s a f#*king microwave. What is it?” Jordyn was obviously confused by the question. Before I could move to intervene, Dad got toe-to-toe & face-to-face with him. “I will not tolerate you being a smartass to me, Boy!”

As he raised a hand, I stepped in between them, pushing Jordyn behind me. “Dad, he wasn’t being a smartass or being disrespectful. Please stop yelling at him. He doesn’t know what you are asking. Did you mean what he’s cooking?”
His fury was turned my way and I was shocked to see that he was shaking with suppressed rage. “You stay the hell out of this! This is between me and that big kid. I am not going to have anyone being disrespectful to me in my house. You are always sticking up for him and I won’t have it!”

I turned away and moved across the kitchen as he ranted. He suddenly yelled, “Who the hell do you think you are?”
I turned to make sure the question was aimed at me. “I know exactly who I am. I am the person who loves you all. I am the person who is here to take care of you. I am the person who takes care of these children and I am not going to let you treat them this way. They always show you respect, maybe you should try showing them some respect too. I love you but I am not going to tolerate YOU behaving like this to them.” By then, I was starting to shake and I was afraid I would begin to cry so I turned my back to him.

He shouted, “Now you’re being disrespectful to me!”
“You’re right, I am! The difference is, I am an adult. I have a right to show disrespect to another adult. They are children and have to be respectful of you ALL the time. And they are. You think it’s ok to treat them like this because they are children. So while you are telling us what you won’t tolerate in YOUR house, I want us to be clear about what I will not TOLERATE with my grandchildren! Are we clear on THAT?”
Dad stuck his chin out belligerently and said, “I’m hungry. All these kids have food and nobody fixed me anything to eat.”
I sighed, feeling like the root of the problem had just come to light. I began making him a sandwich as he climbed up in a chair at the bar. As quickly as it began, it was over and once I gave him his food, he was complacent again. He ate without speaking then went to his room for a nap as if nothing had happened at all.

Now this is the point that where I admit to being ashamed at myself for raising my voice to him. I am fully aware that his disease directly causes his behaviors and I know I shouldn’t get upset. Trying to balance children and the elderly is hard enough without having Alzheimer’s in the bargain. I am supposed to be the responsible adult around here and I let the disease beat me down for a moment.

This morning when Dad got up, I sat down beside him and put my head on his shoulder. I wanted desperately to apologize for yesterday’s outburst but doubted he would even remember it. I was floored when he stroked my hair and said softly, “I’m sorry I made you mad at me. I never want to make you mad, ever. You are my right arm and I wouldn’t be alive without you. I’m not sure what I did this time but I’m sorry I did it. Ok?”

I looked at him in amazement, “I’m not mad at you, Dad. I love you. And I shouldn’t have yelled at you yesterday.”
“Yesterday?” he asked. “I was talking about our argument this morning.” I didn’t even bother to point out that I had just gotten home from work and he had just gotten up so we were seeing each other for the first time today. I just smiled and asked if he was ready for some breakfast.