i try really hard not to cry a lot. and i try to stop myself from thinking about anymore sort of losses. and i try really really hard not to realize the loss my dog is more hurtful than the loss of my late grandfather. because, there's a difference in-between spontaneity and fore-told doom regarding loss. there's a difference between having someone on my bed every night, and the loss of humanity that Alzheimer turns you into. i don't know which one i'd rather choose, another 6 years of knowing they aren't there anymore. or another dead dog.
i just can't i dont even know what i can't anymore. this is just too **** ******* much emotion i don't know how to handle it. i've spent so long being a shell that being filled with anything but emptiness is confounding and not understandable
The sun set over the Hamptons that night, A golden egg cracked into the ocean, We napped on the beach. Goose bumps. Wrapped tight, Warm blanket. Waves. Shared ear buds. She sang solely for us sitting so comfortably on the precipice of forty. If only we had known this would be the best day, we could have begged the dripping sun to stay afloat but then we would have always known the sun will never rise as high or shine as brightly as it did. Each day a slow erosion of the New York coastline, degradation of the mind. Please remember— even when I don't—our summer in September.
i miss the way we used to garden. when all of our worries were the weeds and fallen petals. i miss the way you used to speak french. so soft, and perfect. it excited me to learn all you knew. i miss the way you watched antique shows every morning, and i'd watch them with you even though they bored me. i miss the way you read your penguin books as i lay next to you on days when i was sick. i miss the way you used to talk. i miss the way you used to know me.
Keeper of time Has lost his mind. He no longer ticks. He sighs. He questions. He swears a little. Does he know who he is? Not precisely. I tell him he's a law, a sage, a determiner. He's even the reason I get up in the morning. He says he'll get back to me. When? I ask. Ah, there's the rub...
So many things I've said. So much i have left to say. But I don't think I have enough time to find the words that keep getting lost along the way. Don't be afraid if I forget who I am today because I still remember who we were yesterday. I remember the nights by the fire with a bottle of wine. I remember the the day you said you'd be mine. I remember all the years we were young, wild, free. I remember all the dreams we had of how great our kids' future would be. I remember the love. I remember the fights. I remember the summers on the island watching the fireworks light up the night. Even if it doesn't show, there's one thing I need you to know. I remember
i wrote this for my aunt who has struggled with my uncle's fight with alzheimers