The Wind Phone
Losing A Loved One To Alzheimer’s Feels Like Losing Them Twice
It kills me that someone could live so full to the brim they’re spilling over. And die so empty.
Someone I love died. Slipped out the door, didn’t even say goodbye. Didn’t matter, the saying of it. Not like he remembered me anyway.
Let me tell you two of the ugliest words I know. Alzheimer’s Disease.
Rotten thieves, that’s what those words are.
Robs a man of everything. Not just days behind him, but everything right in front of him, too. Makes him look at his wife, their boys, grandbabies, not know who they are nevermind a little girl he loved, once upon a time.
Such a good man. That’s what they kept saying at the funeral. Years working rough jobs made for men who didn’t go to college. I’m working hard so you don’t have to, he’d tell both his boys. Sent them to college. Proudest dad in the room when they graduated. And all of that, gone from his eyes.
Can’t hardly feel sorry for myself, knowing he looked at his own sons with empty eyes. Robbed of their first steps, first day of school, first hockey jerseys, evenings flooding the rink and taping hockey sticks. All the birthdays, laughter, tears and…
