3 years ago today, I got woken in the predawn hours with the call that my dad was on his way out, and he didn't live to see the light again.
Yesterday we were playing the letter-tile game and my mom was getting all the Rs and we laughed about it and said "Hi Bob!" We're trying hard to remember the funny and silly things Alzheimer's made my dad do. We don't talk about the knife he was carrying. The bruises on my mom. When he tried to kill the ER doctor. His blood smeared on the hospital wall. Him in hard restraints.
Some say it gets easier. I think what really happens is that you forget. Because I'm fine, until I remember. Or until I go back and read this blog. And then it hurts, and I'm angry, all over again.
Living with Bob and "Al"
8 hours ago