It is infinitely easier to focus on the disability. It's almost automatic—instinctive so to speak—for me, a daughter of a Benson's syndrome patient, to constantly notice my dad's differences. And though it's much more comfortable to dwell on his difficulties, often, the best remedy to my uncontrollable emotions, is focusing on his abilities. Instead of getting down about his verbal struggles, his awkward behaviors, and his seemingly fragile physique, I search for ways to appreciate all he CAN do.
Tonight, I picked him up at his apartment. I watched as he stuttered on his words, couldn't remember simple things, and got confused about where we were. And yes, it made me sad. I got that inevitable feeling of tears beginning to collect in my eyes, that vulnerable and helpless feeling I hate. But I actively chose to get past it. I didn't want something that would never change to stop me from enjoying a night with my dad. So when we got home, I played some loud music, we danced together, laughed together, and just enjoyed each others' presence. Sometimes, with him, it's a lot easier for us both to express ourselves in ways other than words. Dancing around like goons, twirling each other around, and laughing at silly photobooth pictures of us—that helped us both.
While it's unrealistic to always be positive— to always solely focus on his abilities rather than his never-ending list of difficulties—once in a while, it's worth it to take a step back and just enjoy each other. Enjoy the fact that he has me to forever support him, enjoy the fact that after years of the bad father-daughter relationship we had growing up we can finally hold each other close and appreciate each other, and enjoy the fact that he is happy, through all the pain he endures. He's a happy guy, always smiling, always laughing, always loving. That is one product of his disease—it's made him a happy guy who appreciates everything good in life.
