This morning I sat next to Dad during church. Normally at least one kid is sitting between us, but today it was just the two of us. For the first hymn I got out the hymnal, turned to the correct page and showed it to Dad so he could sing along. To my utter shock, after a few warbles he was suddenly belting out in full voice, totally off key, in MY octave. At first I thought he was just having some trouble with his vocal chords. He doesn't talk much, so sometimes when he does his voice comes out too high and a little warbly, esp. if he is praying for us. But when we got to the end of the first verse, he suddenly found the right note, in his octave. Starting the second verse, same thing happened. He started out in his octave, then suddenly would veer up into my octave, but really off key, like he couldn't find the shape of the melody. I started to wonder if my singing was throwing him off. Maybe he was trying to follow me, only literally. The hymn may not be familiar to him, and it was moving along at quite a clip. When he started singing off key, I started singing louder so I wouldn't be thrown off myself. But it only seemed to make things worse. He got even louder whenever he could find a note to land on. We sang 4 verses in all, and in each verse he spent more time in his own octave and sang even louder. Well at least the last note was always correct!
Our church service has plenty of liturgy in which there is responsive reading as well as unison reading. I held the bulletin for Dad and moved my finger so he could see where we were and follow along. And soon I found he was having a little trouble there as well. He always started off okay, but was unable to keep up with the speed at which the congregation was reading. He didn't always know it, and so he was reading at full volume a word behind, then two words behind, then three. Also, he seems to have forgotten that the bold face is when the congregation reads, and the regular face is when the leader reads. Or maybe he had trouble seeing the difference. A couple of times he started reading the leader's part, but did know enough to stop when I touched his leg and said, "not yet."
Back in the day Dad was a not bad singer. Because he was usually in the pulpit he didn't sing with the choir, and when I was much younger he stayed with me in the pews so I would behave. But he did sing in tune, full voiced. Mom tells me he joined her in singing with a Taiwanese community choir for a few years, learning the music at home. But over a year ago Mom made him give it up because he was just lost and singing his own part, which doesn't work when you also sing very loudly. And he was unaware of all of this, unhappy with Mom for making him quit, insisting the director said he could stay. For months he would tell her from time to time, "You know, I was singing in that choir. The director said I could." Even after they moved to NH, when Mom was leaving for choir practice, he actually said, "why am I not going? I can sing!" I'm sure this eventually happens to all people with Dementia. One loses skills, but doesn't realize it because self-awareness also degrades. Eventually the person has to give up previously enjoyed group activities because he/she becomes too much of a liability. And they retain enough awareness to feel the loss, rejection, or both, all of the normal emotions when one can no longer participate.
I was reflecting on this during the sermon, when the pastor got to the end, and suddenly, while giving the invitation to communion, said,"The feast is for ALL." And I wondered if going to worship is the last group event Dad will truly be able to participate in. Because he's known the ropes for so long, it may be one of the last things to go. And it may be the last place where he will always be welcome. I only hope. For now I will enjoy the warmth of his arm pressed against mine while we share the hymnal or bulletin, and try not to giggle as he belts out hymns in full falsetto.
ps. During the sermon I was suddenly aware that I could hear a gentle snoring. At first I thought I was imagining it, but when it got louder I glanced over because I thought it was Dad. But he was very awake, listening to the sermon. But it was definitely coming from his direction. I glanced over a little more and on the other side of the pew divider was a very senior woman, bent quite over, breathing deeply. I think she may have nodded off at some point. For the next 5 minutes her snoring waxed at waned, and I glanced over at the choir and saw Mom exchanging some whispers with another woman; evidently she thought it was Dad too. Then I look over and see that Dad is actually starting to nod off. He managed to catch himself, but when it happened again I saw him tipping and at that point put my hand firmly on his leg, which jerked him back to consciousness. Well, I guess we have this to look forward to as well.
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