A progressive mental deterioration that can occur in middle or old age, due to generalized degeneration of the brain.
I remember, but I'm reluctant to use that word,
Because you are incapable of defining a memory.
You now know a memory as a fictional reality,
From which you formulate your world.
To me, It's as vivid as what's right before me.
The past, that is.
The only contrast?
I'm able to distinguish it from now.
I reminisce on the moments,
The ones where you'd call me your "special little girl,"
The ones where you'd calm the discord arising in the room.
The ones where you could recall my name,
The ones where you could identify my countenance.
I miss your smile,
The one illuminated by stories of the past.
I miss your stories,
Those of war,
Those of love,
Now, everything has changed,
You still respire,
But for no purpose anymore.
The air you inhale does not keep you alive,
It keeps you existing.
I still see you,
Materially, you're there,
You've been gone for years.
I can't determine if it's easier this way,
Or if it'd be of greater benefit for the both of us if you also retired physically.
It's not fair to you,
It's not fair to me.
The most arduous task I'll ever document will be this:
I am grieving your loss,
But you're still here.
I know this life is no longer worth living to you,
And although the life you've lived is priceless,
I wish it didn't have to reach this bitter variation of an end.
I always pictured you in further parts of my life.
My wedding day.
I'd dreamed of you there to meet my husband,
And soon enough, my children,
But I can't have that.
Not all wishes come true,
And I've yet to accept that fact.
But it's time for you to leave,
You want to go back home.
I want you to find peace,
But I'm scared to let you go.
I'm not upset,
It's not your fault,
You are too.
The blames to give,
To this condition,
That wrongfully affected you.
Though you've forgotten me,
You'll never leave my mind.
I hope you know I'll always love you,
Even when you leave my side.
For my grandfather.