Fathers, sons touched by time
Blaine Lang's father, Howard, taught him everything he knows.
"I grew up sitting next to Dad on the tractor and we always lived within spittin' distance of one another," he said.
"He was a doer, always busy on the farm, and if we were puttin' up a house Dad was right there working on the foundation along with us boys," reminisced Lang.
When Howard had a stroke 10 years ago, it was Lang's mother who primarily took care of him. But when his mother's health began to fail and Lang's father would not leave her side, it was Lang who had to step in and make the hard decisions.
"Dad wouldn't leave my mom, so the only solution was to move them both into an assisted living facility where they could remain together while she got the medical attention she needed," he said.
As Howard's dementia grew worse and Lang's mother's health declined, Lang found himself among a minority of men who take on the role of caregiver — a job for which many men receive no training.
"It has been hard to watch someone you know and love get lost and lose their memory," he said.
"We are lucky that Dad is a happy guy and easy to be around. He doesn't yell or get mad or agitated with us," he said, noting dementia patients sometimes become frustrated and difficult to manage.
While his father is a resident of Concordia, Lang drives him to his daily activity time at 9 a.m. each day. He returns at 1 p.m. to deliver his father back to the residence.
"Dad was punctual. We were farmers and you just did things on time. I knew that Dad liked the sense of routine. He always had Mom to structure things around home and so I know he appreciates me regularly picking him up and getting him from place to place," said Lang.
This daily schedule is juggled with Lang's continued responsibilities to the family farm in Cabot.
"The toughest thing for us to explain to Dad was that he was going to lose his home and have to move from the home he'd always known. He took it well, but next to not being able to drive, that was the biggest hurdle," he said."Dad was always the boss on any project around the farm. He was always giving us advice. He was the man," said Lang."He could run any type of farm equipment and could fix anything. He could make anything run. He was sharp," he added.Lang said since his life has revolved around family and farming for generations, not being involved in his dad's final chapters never crossed his mind."It might be easier in one respect for us because we knew each other so well. These days, fathers and sons move apart and the dad may have no idea of what their son's job is all about and they lose what they have in common," said Lang."Because we were so close, I think I know what he needs and wants," he added."It just eats out your heart to watch someone's mind wasting away, but he is still my dad."<B>Reversal of roles</B>Paul Eichholtz assumed care of his father when his mother died about a year ago."I had been out of the house for about 19 years," said Eichholtz of Butler Township, explaining he vacated his own apartment to move back home with 85-year-old William.As well as suffering from bipolar disorder and age-related memory loss, William relies on a walker to get around — another reason Eichholtz decided against leaving his father to live alone."The way I look at it, my parents, they raised me. I just feel an obligation like, 'Hey. They got me into this world and cared for me — and now when they need the care, it's my way of expressing my thanks ... for what they've done for me."A full-time electrician for AK Steel, Eichholtz praises the adult day care programs at Lifesteps and the Butler Veterans Affairs Medical Center, which allow him to maintain his job without interruption.With a split schedule between the centers, Eichholtz drops William off in the morning and picks him up on the way home from work."When I get him home, I make dinner for him. Then right after dinner he wants to shave. I give him his shaver. When he's done with that he's ready to brush his teeth."He goes to bed between 7:30 and 8 p.m. every evening. By then I'm exhausted myself," he said."Different things that I do for him make me think of things that fathers would have done for their sons: Me taking Dad every day to Lifesteps reminds me of how a father would drop his son off at school every day.""I have a lot of respect right now for single parents, because I almost feel like I'm caring for a child that weighs 140 pounds."
Despite the sense of role reversal, Eichholtz said his father's military service will always command unwavering respect.A veteran of World War II, William served in Germany and later worked at the Butler VA."If it wasn't for people like my dad, you and I wouldn't be having this conversation today," he said.Eichholtz also recounted other things from William's past that define the family's former dynamics.Eichholtz told how William, proficient at saxophone and clarinet, once played in a band with noted musician/composer Henry Mancini."I know he wanted to pursue a career in music, and he wasn't able to do that. I don't know if it was service-related or not — I'm thinking it was — he had to have one of his lungs removed. I was only 5 or 6 years old at the time. I know he had to give up the instruments," he said."I know that was the love of his life."Because of those times, Eichholtz said his role as caretaker in some ways began to emerge in childhood.Currently, the role has allowed a bittersweet improvement in his relationship with William.As part of the rhythm of daily life, the two share more conversation than when Eichholtz lived off-site."It has brought me closer to my father, because I wasn't real close to him before. We have more conversation now than what we had when I wasn't caring for him."(At that time) I would come home and say, 'Hi Dad, how are you doing?' Now we talk more and carry on more general conversations — whether it be (about) the economy or his health or the weather.""It's a life-changing experience," he said."There are a lot of things that I basically had to give up that I enjoyed doing. ... It's my choice," he said."Right now my father's the most important thing in my life."
For Cameron Harjung, who lived thousands of miles from his father for most of his life, when the call came about his father, he wasn't at all sure what honoring Dad would eventually entail.His seven-year journey with his father was at times complicated and challenging but in the end it was a blessing."My mother and father visited us from California annually and on the last trip they made as a couple, I assured them that whichever was left after death separated them, that I would care for the remaining parent," explained Harjung.Three years later his mother died of cancer, leaving him to live up to his promise and assume a major role in his father's care.Harjung moved his father and all of his possessions to their home in Valencia.After a while it became apparent that boundaries needed to be set to make the situation healthy for both his father and Cameron's family of five."Dad was happy when he was with me, but my family needed me, too.The Harjungs opted for assisted living facilities, relocating the elder Harjung several times before he was finally settled into a nursing facility that could meet his medical needs and was just five minutes from the Harjungs' home."Any preconceived ideas that I had of what taking care of Dad looked like, never really materialized," said Harjung. "It was seven years of constantly changing dynamics," he said."We finally found a facility that was close to our home and that was a godsend," said Harjung."We were able to have Dad over to the house on the weekends and possibly once during the week and I was able to visit him often," said Harjung."Really the whole seven years was a process of letting go," said Harjung of his time with his dad."Dad trusted me and that helped me make the decisions I thought best for him," he said.Harjung said that for him, he still always felt like the son but moved into the role of protector."I never felt like I was losing a dad or not feeling like his son. I was still his son but moving into a different season where I became his protector and his advocate," explained Harjung."I felt that honoring my dad was being obedient to what the Lord wanted for my life and for my dad."I clung to Scripture and to the promise that God is faithful in all things and he proved it," Hartung explained."During those seven years, it seemed like 70. It was really tough to see someone you love changing, and I mourned his passing during those seven years," he said."When we look back on it now, we realized what a blessing it was to have him for those seven years," said Cameron. "I spent so much time with Dad that it was like making up for lost time," he said."I was at a different phase in my life where Dad could impart to me things that I was mature enough to accept. Stuff that I missed in my youth," he explained."It was like a lifetime of lessons crammed into seven years.""Dad was so content and not wrapped up in material things," said Harjung of the most valuable of lessons learned."I look back and think of what an earthly treasure it was to get to really know my dad, that all the work and struggle seem so far away but what remains are the happy memories of time spent with him," he said. "I am truly thankful now that I had the opportunity."
