Hidden among hills in Western Pa is this waterfall. Not far off Rt 22, heading west from Altoona – about halfway to Pittsburgh – is Buttermilk Falls. Down a bumpy cement road and through only a few rural, tree-shaded intersections, one arrives at this quaint park. It is serene. Mere minutes from the Rt 22 metal melee, a small parking lot invites all to park life away from all its problems.

This is Fred Rogers’ place by extension. Several remains of his grandfather’s (Fred McFeely) estate are visible at the park while Mr. Rogers life and times are memorialized in small wooden plaques along a simple walkway toward the waterfall. The falls themselves are in the Hires Run Valley which is a tributary to the Conemaugh River.

A recent visit here was necessary. Weeks of unexplained delays of plans, expected overlaps of multiple schedules, and usual busyness required something – anything – to free myself from all of it. A 4-day planned vacation fell through. Family matters prevented one day from happening. A personal medical issue, another day. Home repairs and maintenance another. Just did not end.

I know this isn’t only me. Life happens. One drop at a time of little issues then all of a sudden the bucket is full. We’ve all had it happen.

These mind-heavy issues didn’t immediately disappear once my car door closed over a small, shale parking space under a small grove of trees; however, a few deep breaths of forest air during the first ten minutes’ paces sure did help. Allowing the time – between each Mr. Rogers plaque – to empty my bucket by a few drops. Reaching the waterfall forty-five minutes from the start, I can say my bucket was a little lighter. Not much, but a little.

One can walk under the waterfall to meditate, take pictures/videos, or stand there and get relief from a hot, sunny day. Visitor’s choice, as could be said,

The four hour round-trip visit ended with a return back to my normal: Preparation for a busy event week coming up and four church organ services (including a funeral Saturday) this weekend. Life as I’ve known for so many years

Life as I’ve known it ..

… without mentioning, to this point, caregiving for a family member with dementia. “Caregiving” as an umbrella term to cover five years of in-home care and then then, most recently, sixteen months in an assisted living facility.

Yes, I wanted four days away. The emotional struggle dealing with a day-to-day overflowing bucket of emotional ups and downs had reached its crest. I’ve done the best I can meeting his needs. His health and safety are always on my mind. Beginning with a simple wrong turn in his car leading to a dementia diagnosis five years ago, this slow river of mental decline has eroded his solid rocks of reason.

It, really, isn’t any different from thousands of other experiences caregivers have when walking side by side, day by day, hand-in-hand with one walking down dementia’s path. Over the years, we’ve shared all the steps -together. The initial diagnosis and subsequent frustration, loss of driver’s license with understandable disappointment, confusion over simple tasks, and momentary blank stares.

..also wonderful, complimentary words that were rare during those rough teenage years. Frequent phone calls from the assisted living facility stand as a testament to our solid relationship. He has my number firmly implanted in a small brain cell … not to be forgotten at present. We have a connection.

So, this dementia path, for us – for me – is rough. It isn’t ever intended to be an easy one, I believe. It is taken on as an unpredictable, day-by-day, who knows, let’s see what tomorrow brings … and hold each other’s hand path to somewhere. (Ironically, as I type, he just called needing white medical tape – an obsession of his. No worries. We will go out in a few hours and find some).

Four days and an almost full bucket. I did lose a few drops with the help of my good neighbor, Fred Rogers. By all accounts, Mr. Rogers was a great dad. Plaques leading to the falls testify to this fact. He was a wonderful man – as everyone knows.

I wouldn’t trade my dad in for him, however. As things are, I always say we are losing him a little at a time every day, but the other side of reality is getting a great guy. I wouldn’t have said this years ago. We had a tough time.

Being his caregiver and sharing this path with him has been a joy. We’re not at “his” falls yet and I am finding my bucket to be, maybe, a bit bigger than anticipated with him as we walk together.

When alone, however, I have to be mindful of a full bucket. All of us who take care of .. and love those who suffer from dementia, need to provide self-care.

Our path is different from the one shared with our loved one. The old saying, “you can’t take care of someone else if you don’t take care of yourself first”, is so true. Spiritual, physical, and mental health are so important first-and-foremost.

There us a sign at the beginning of the Buttermilk path: “Be the kind of person Mr. Rogers always knew you could be”. I take this to heart.

There are two paths .. two falls. Two destinations. Being at Buttermilk Falls reminded me of this.

Fresh air and Mr. Rogers. Not a bad combination.