This is a difficult topic for many people in my age group who are dealing with a parent requiring physical care later in life. Pull the box of tissues close, it brought tears to my eyes.
The people sitting opposite him in the small room were his people. He knew that and wished he could say it. For a minute, he struggled with trying to form the words. In his mind, he heard them: I’m so glad you’re here. I love you. The garbled vocalizing that came out of his mouth, however, frustrated him to no end.
He could see the sadness and pity on their faces. Faces that he once knew so well, now unrecognizable. He only knew that they were his people. They belonged with him and he with them.
“Do you want to go for a walk, Dad?”
He understood what the woman was asking but couldn’t phrase what he really wanted. Instead, he nodded and smiled in a grimace. His facial gestures no longer worked the way they should.
She helped him up, gently, as if helping an invalid. Suddenly, he had an image, a flash of a memory. A…
View original post 660 more words