I Hate This Disease

He still knows me.  And my children (his grandchildren). He doesn't know what day it is, month it is, or year it is.  He doesn't do the crossword, or watch television, or read books.  He still likes the sports pages of the newspaper. He doesn't have too much to say most days.  He still laughs at my jokes (when I can remember one to tell him), and once in a while he has a mischievous glint in his eye.  He still loves anything with sugar as the main ingredient and his Beck's non-alcoholic beer .  One day he will remember things from way back and talk about them like they happened just yesterday.  Other days he believes he is a marathon runner and that he has a blue cat.

Sometimes I wonder where the missing pieces of my father have gone. It is hard to watch him disappear a little at a time.  It is hard to be the parent to my father when in so many ways I am still the little girl.

Yes, I hate this disease.

My Father and me, last year on Father's Day