Dementia is a thief.

 

 

                             Dementia                     

Let the words from my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my strength and my redeemer. Psalms 19: 13 

My father had developed dementia.  He had always been strange throughout his fatherhood, but it was developing into a real dive.

I lived 2800 miles from them, came home every 2 or 3 months but I didn't how much it had progressed.

When I came home one time, Dad was unpredictable.  He told us that we wouldn't inherit any thing.  If we wanted to obtain them, Dad said that we would have to come to the auction and bid on them like everyone else.  Yup.

I saw many other elements of dementia in my visit, and could see how worn out Mom was.

I didn't return to visit until Dad was in his bed, with hospice visiting daily. NO ONE of the hospice provided any in home assistance. My frail mother bathed, changed bedding and diapers all on her own. When I called Mom, she was tearful and relieved when I said I would be there the next day.

Nothing else I want to say.  Dementia took everything away from him, and Mom. And dementia took Dad from us.

Parchment and cinnamon

 

The parchment unrolled in Ruth’s hands.  An aroma of cinnamon and incense rose from the ancient document as Ruth deciphered the cryptic writing. 

…Nothing is cast in iron…all burn in a wood fire…

This is a post from back in 2011 from Delores  when she first began the Wednesday Words.  It was fun then, and it is fun now.

 

The bold words are from Wednesday words from that time. 

33 words

A Kind Hand

 

                   

kindness        

 

Patsy shivered in the new home, despite the heat and the friendliness of the other occupants and the happy sounds, despite the good food waiting for her, despite…everything.

She had never, in her whole life, been in a place where she was welcomed and where nothing was expected of her.

Someone approached her and Patsy reflexively ducked her head and curled up, waiting for the first strike and subsequent kick, over and over again.

Instead Patsy found a kind hand and quiet reassurances that she was home, that this was now her home: love, friendship, food, and a warm bed were hers if she wanted them.

If she wanted them?

Patsy licked the offered hand and gazed into the gentle eyes, with her tail wagging for the first time in a long time.

This is a post from 15 years ago, when I started to feel a sense of confidence as a writer.