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My grandparents met shortly before the war began, after he was drafted she promised to wait for him

She claims that one of the reasons she first fell for my grandfather was his voice

His singing voice

He promised that upon his return he would sing to her every night for the rest of their lives

Musical memories are not damaged by Alzheimer’s, as the areas in the brain linked to musical memory are unaffected

This disease doesn’t care who you are or who you have become.

I have long been a stranger to my grandfather. My name a missing page from his book.

Many stop visiting their relatives, feeling as though they are already gone.

Daughter becomes mother and father becomes child.

time passes through us, stealing the very memories that define us.
As young as 45, others in their golden years

It makes me wonder who decides to turn back the clock? What is crueler than the loss of yourself?
Bobby Dodds Dec 2020
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
Norman Crane Oct 2020
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.
clixdhna Mar 2020
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.
written in 2017
Carlo C Gomez Feb 2020
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...
Zack Ripley Mar 2019
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
SA Szumloz Mar 2020
Whenever I look into your eyes

Your lost, deep blue eyes

I hear our song again

London bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down…

It is a distant melody

Rising to the surface of my memory

It makes me sad to think

That we will never sing our song again

My fair lady.
This is for my grandmother and to all the people battling Alzheimer's disease.
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