It’s been two weeks of daily visits, two weeks of getting to know him a bit better. Our conversations have ranged from his youth in Italy, working in Germany, to his life in Canada.
In other circumstances I’d feel as though my relationship with him was deepening, becoming more substantial. That perhaps I’m offering him a long-needed channel for conversation and reflection.
Trouble is, our conversations are about as durable as mist. With a half life of maybe 17 minutes, our probing discussions wither, lost in the recesses of his failing mind.
His Alzheimer’s claims these moments. It claims any sense of progress he might make each day. And it claims a bit of the intimacy that we share as I know it won’t outlast the day.
But still. As fleeting as our moments together are, I’m happy for them. More precisely, I’m blessed by them.
Sitting with him, witnessing his suffering up close, is a special blessing.
It’s an honour to be in this place with him, navigating this leg of his journey.
And so I sit with him every day. Listening to him try to articulate his confusion, and seeing in his eyes the pain and sadness of an interior life that, with every breath, vanishes within him.
Is your personality defined by how you perceive yourself or by how you are perceived by others?
I see myself as a good person, but recent life stressers have made me seem bitchier than I intend.
It feels wrong to express opinions when I'm not an expert on the subject matter. But neither is anyone else?
Are catcalls ok? I can't decide.
On the summit of Mt. Douglas
Sound of the waves. Dogs fetching sticks in the water. Much needed alone time.
These kids are behind the bush at a park...they're collecting sticks and making "camp fire"
I got this for my husband as a souvenir ftom my trip to Tokyo.
This is my favourite cherry tree