It's been almost two years since I last visited my parents. A long time if we were a tight family, but short really when you consider that almost all of my adult life I have lived nowhere near where they do. Last year was not a very good one for me, I was unemployed, had some medical issues of my own, and just couldn't afford to go. This year is different, but in all honesty, going to Florida is not a vacation for me.

I have been down twice in the six years since they moved there from New Mexico. Once before Mom was moved into assisted living and once since. That last visit was extremely difficult for me to take. Mom had already deteriorated quite a bit from the lively woman that I knew. She was still making the effort to wear lipstick every day but, at the time of my visit, she was really beginning to transition from what was originally referred to as mild dementia to full blown Alzheimer's. At least then she did know who I was even though she had not seen me in a few years. She did show signs of dementia on that first visit, but at the time I felt it was just age creeping up on her. After all, moving almost across the country at the age of 81seemed like a real push, but they would be nearer to family for a change. She was having a particularly difficult time on my second visit, refusing to eat and being belligerent. This is my last memory of her, and not a pleasant one.

In a recent blog SherriAnn commented that Alzheimer's is a disease of the family, and I'm beginning to believe that. Mom doesn't know who her children are anymore, and she has closed that curtain between reality and limbo, leaving us mentally if not physically. It has brought out the best and the worst in all of us.

One of the benefits is Dad's realization that sometimes it does not pay to hang on to a grudge. How Scottish of him. When my older brother, who Dad had not spoken to since the summer of '69, had surgery for throat cancer last year, it was Dad who found out and initiated the reconnection. A huge step from two very stubborn men. Not only did they reconnect, but it also enabled us to reconnect with him openly. Not that Dad still doesn't have faults, but some things will never change. I cannot challenge his bigotry, he is a product of his generation, but it is painful to see him reject my younger brother's adopted son because he is biracial. After all, it is not the boy's fault, and my brother and his wife made an adult decision to adopt a child when my brother was 46.

Having five children who went different directions when we flew from the nest, the family has not been exceptionally tight. Through all this, I have a new appreciation of my oldest brother, the true caregiver of the family. Living next door to Dad, he does watch out for him yet they do manage to maintain boundaries. Dad has his routines that let them know he is up and okay and neither walks over to the other's home without calling first. He takes Dad to doctor appointments, to visit Mom at the nursing home, and out for dinner. He is my hero.

The brothers do things together, even if it is just a fishing vacation once a year, they do it. I am grateful for the reconnection. Unfortunately, this disease has caused a split between my sister and me. I don't care about things, but I do resent the feeling that every time she goes to Florida that she always returns with some sort of treasure, usually jewelry, that once was Mom's. Her reasoning, she has daughters and I don't, therefore she is more entitled than I am to have these things that are highly sentimental. She has even gone as far as to ask me about any jewelry that was given to me in the past.

At Christmas, she returned with a box full of old family photos. Not an offer to make copies for anyone and so far, I have received none. Between her expressions of entitlement and her need to control everyone around her, we are no longer speaking. She just doesn't get it. Sherri is right, this is a disease of the family, and not a pleasant one.

You are probably wondering when I am going to get around to my dilemma. Well, here it is. I love to travel and I usually make a trip to Europe every year around Thanksgiving. Because of my situation last year, I was unable to go and I am quite anxious to get back. I don't think that is selfish, but truth is, I feel a little guilty about wanting to go to Europe rather than visit my family in Florida. The other truth behind all this is that my last visit there was bad enough, and this is not how I wish to remember my parents. It is painful just talking to Mom on the phone because she doesn't have a clue who she is talking to, and she can't even complete a sentence. Dad doesn't travel anymore, which at 87 really makes a lot of sense. Besides, after flying for Pan Am for 40 years, he has already seen the world. I don't think travel is on his bucket list, but it is on mine.