I am a small boat in a big ocean, all alone tugging along a wrecked ship...
Nights pass with heavy loads and day breaks with hardwork, yet I tug alone my wrecked ship...
Many storms come along, with tide so swift that I nearly lose my grip on my wrecked ship, lightening so bright and thunder roars gives me shivers of doubt that I might not make to the shore with my wrecked ship...
With a high aim and certainty, I tug along with my wrecked ship...
Days go by and I still see no land, will I be able to safely shore my wrecked ship...
Sometimes I see land but my sight has gone so blurry that even reality passes my sight...
Thinking I was taking the right path to the shore but the waves sway me in all directions, it's hard to tell which direction I am in now...
It's a big ocean and am all alone tugging my wrecked ship...
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.
Climbing on the bus
Not looking forward to this trip
But it meant so much to her
And how could I predict
That it would be her last hurrah
Before she passed away
Just one year ago marks
The anniversary of that day
It was an annual trip, with her twin
They took to different cities
With a group of old church folks
They called themselves
“The Traveling Gypsies”
As it turned out to be
My last fond memory
Of my mother and her twin
Before they were stripped
Of all their memories
Alzheimer’s was their reward
They gave it quite a fight
Bed ridden in their final days
Until they saw the light
Who's to say how it will end
Or where that place will be
A gutter in the streets of life
Or home where it should be
So as I sit and contemplate
These moments I recount
I think about the road ahead
And how I’ll make it count
Don't turn away.
Cause I am the same person, you couldn't take your eyes off once
I know it's hard, being ignored
Meeting the same person for the first time everyday
I am sorry for everything's faded
But I want to make it up to you
Can we live in the past?
I know you loved me then
I know somewhere you still do
I promise, I am the same
I am the same
I am the same
Wait, who are you again?