His marbles are all over the floor.
The once sharp mind and quick witted man I once knew is now fumbling to remember yesterday.
He can remember 1952 really well.
As fiercely independent as he once was, he fights relying on family for help. He does not ask for help. Does not want help.
My life has been turned upside down.
Still reeling from an unexpected death, I try to find grace and patience with him.
He is much like a young boy in many respects now.
Clumsy and slow. Broken items found here. Spills and smudges there.
I tell him “don’t worry, everything is washable.”
“Don’t worry, I have more coffee mugs.”
The bumps I hear in the night wake me from a dead sleep. I worry that he’s fallen down someplace.
His shuffling feet during the day keep me apprised as to where he’s wandered in the house.
I feel like a creeper when he goes outside on his own.
Is he still there? Where did he go? What is he doing.
While I try to adjust to my new life right now, I struggle at times.
I feel like I was on a normal path in life and somehow got diverted to the Psycho Path.
Nothing makes sense and I still have so much to do.
I can’t even list everything because it’s too much. I feel the anxiety rise when I think about it.
The light at the end of the tunnel is just a flicker.
It’s there, it’s just still too far away.
At this point I’m not sure if the light is the end of the tunnel and return to a more normal existence or a freight train heading towards me.
Ps. For all those who are struggling - a gentle reminder.
