A Step Back In Time.

Before we go anywhere else, I must explain where this might have begun, and who Daddy was before all of this, so these first posts will serve as a bit of history into "what was going on before we knew about Lewy".
In all my 36 years, I remember Daddy being a little, well, "off". Even as a small child I remember thinking Daddy was sort of weird. Whether it be his random conversations in pretend Spanish or the fact that he fixated on, "when I was a kid I could get a candy bar for 5 cents", he just, I don't know, never seemed to fully grasp reality. Even when I was young, I saw him as immature, and "out there" which is huge, I think. He was never very communicative with any of us, and the rare conversations we did have, that he had any enthusiasm in anyway, was about his past and the mere pennies he insists he bought it with. "I remember when I could go to the movies, get popcorn, candy AND soda for 50 cents". Tales of paying a dollar to spend an entire day at the Cinema, and afterward stopping at the local soda shop for a malted milk, my god, it was all he could think about. His past life in New Mexico was all he dreamt about going back to. I don't remember him ever really speaking about his present...his life with us...with such technicolor fondness.
Daddy was the oldest of two children. He was born, and grew up in, a very small town in New Mexico. His parents split not long after his younger sister was born and his mother went on to remarry 5 more times. Yes, I said 5 more times, for a total of 6 husbands. His biological father moved on, remarried and had 5 more children...and had limited, then no contact with Daddy in the years after his split with Daddy's mom. From what little we know, most of Daddy's new stepfather's were abusive in some way, and his mother was also a very domineering woman...a woman who would have a pretty firm grasp on Daddy until her death at the age of 91 in January of 2007.
Right after High School, Daddy enlisted in the Marines, supposedly to prove himself...that he wasn't Momma's little boy anymore. This was during the Korean Conflict, and his stint as a Marine didn't last long. From family accounts, he was having some sort of "mental" issues and was discharged...honorably, but discharged nonetheless. He never elaborated one way or another, so I truly don't know the whole story about that. When he came home from the Marines, the girlfriend he'd had before enlisting had given birth to their child...a child, and pregnancy, he apparently knew nothing about. Relatives say Daddy was already a changed person when he returned from the Marines...more skiddish, paranoid, easily distracted and heavy into drinking...and then his girlfriend tormented him with the news she had indeed given birth to a son that looked just like him...and had, by the way, already given him up for adoption. Word is that Daddy's mental state deteriorated and he began drinking even more heavily and got into many a bar fight. Sometime later this same year, Daddy moved to California with his Mother and her 6th (and last) husband...who was our beloved Papa, the only grandpa any of us knew. They moved from New Mexico to Citrus Heights, California into a duplex next door to some young women who had moved to California from Minnesota, and Daddy began dating one of these girls...our Mom.
They dated for a short time and then married in April of 1960. According to one of my Mom's sister's, Mommy thought Daddy was a handsome, charming "man of the world"...she was a naive girl (the youngest of 11) from Minnesota, who had really never been anywhere, so Daddy was really "something" in her eyes. Supposedly, in Daddy's "day" (which was in High School before enlisting), he was quite the ladies man and had girls falling all over him, and he played that role to a "T". From what I know, most of my parent's first few years together were spent doing a lot of partying, drinking, etc. They didn't plan on having any children.
And then...surprise...their first daughter was born in 1963. By this time, both Mommy and Daddy were alcoholics and Daddy was already absent from their marriage and had extra-marital affairs. For the next several years, both of them dealt with mental health issues, alcoholism, and clearly couldn't decide whether they were going to stay together. During their fights, Daddy always ran back to his overbearing Mother, which caused even further problems in my parent's relationship. Mommy always had to compete with Daddy's Mom for attention. Oh, the never-ending saga of the dreaded mother-in-law!
In 1972, their second daughter was born...and that's me. By the time I arrived, Mom and Dad already had a relationship of convenience and obligation, Mommy had been diagnosed with a mental disorder and Daddy was guilted by his Mother and Papa to stay and take care of her...and the two kids he now had and didn't truly want to be bothered with. More years passed...more fights, more alcoholic rages, and more of Daddy running to his Momma and never really acting like an adult who was responsible for anything or anyone.
In 1978, their 3rd child, a son, was born. The third child of an alcoholic, mentally unstable couple who never wanted any children. How one "accidentally" has 3 children, I don't know, but I do know that my Dad's Mom blamed my Mom for not getting her tubes tied after the first 'accident', and my Mom said that my Dad could just as easily get HIS tubes tied. Nany said that "real men" don't get vasectomies, and shouldn't be expected to. OY. Momma's little boy.
Mommy said Daddy questioned the paternity of every one of us and that if he even dropped her off at the hospital, or showed up to see her (or us) afterward, she was "lucky". I remember the day Mommy had my brother because I was 6 and we were grocery shopping when her water broke in one of the aisles. I remember Daddy saying something to the effect of "finally having a son, someone he could be proud of and actually do things with". Unlike us pesky, useless girls...
In the years to come, we grew up with a Dad and Mom whose relationship was rocky at best, littered with calls to the Police and/or to Nany and Papa to come pick us up when they'd be drunk and fighting. Mommy's mental status was always called into question and we thought Daddy was the stable one. Well, that's what he told us. It was always thrown in our face that Mommy was crazy, and that we should trust Daddy...he was the one who would take care of us. But that's not really how things really were. With each episode Mommy had, Daddy would turn to his Mom and Papa. But as we got older, we got to take care of things. One of the last times Mommy "flipped out", I was 13, and my Dad came to me to make phone calls, and to forge Mommy's name to divorce papers (which never went through because he didn't file them). It took us well into adulthood to truly realize that, yes, perhaps Mommy had some emotional issues, but that maybe Dad's complete lack of responsibility and ease in pawning off everything on her or someone else (including us) could make anyone act out or scream until someone called the men in white coats. The second Mommy got back from wherever she'd go, everything was back on her shoulders once again. I wasn't all that close with my Mom until I was much older, and she didn't interact with us socially much, but I know she did the best she could, and overall, she was a sweet mother and loved us the way she knew how. I learned plenty by just watching her quietly...cooking and sewing...and I ate up all the little bits of conversation and insights she gave me.
Daddy was pretty absent as a "father". He wasn't one to ever give us advice or tell us what was right and wrong...we learned that on our own as we went along...or from seeing what they did and deciding not to follow in their footsteps. Mommy was, despite her drinking and problems with Daddy, a pretty loving Mom. She tried, I know that anyway. She was diagnosed with Manic Depression (now called BiPolar) and we'd go live with Nany and Papa every once in a while, when we had to move again or Daddy couldn't handle us when Mommy was "away". Daddy could never handle us...he was always a very nervous person. Even when we were all young, we knew it had something to do with his relationship with his own Mom. His mother always had some sort of power over Daddy and could make him do pretty much anything she wanted, even at the expense of his marriage or family.
In about 1985, Daddy finally saw, to an extent, what their behavior was doing to us kids. Maybe it was the fact that I yelled at him and said he was immature when he asked me to sign Mommy's name to divorce papers. Maybe it was the fact that I had to point out that I was only 13 and that I shouldn't be watching my younger brother all week by myself. All I know is he quit smoking and drinking "cold turkey" that last day they took Mommy away to the nuthouse.
This would be when I can defintely say, knowing what I know now, that Lewy started appearing. In his sobriety, Daddy's true personality came through. There was no more alcohol covering up his thoughts or cigarette's to calm his nerves. Lewy's foot was in the door and was planning on taking over.