I watched The Father, that Anthony Hopkins movie that won all the awards. It was gutting, honestly, the more so I assume because of what's going on with my father.
He's in Assisted Living now, and doing as well as can be expected, I guess. I call him every few days, and he's always glad to hear from me. But he can't remember anything -- he never knows where he is (I have to tell him), and tonight while I was talking to him he forgot who I was.
And even though he's cheerful, talking to him is heartbreaking. "I miss Shelby," he tells me, at least once every phone call. "I'm lonely. I'm just so lonely."
"Now where are you?" he asks me. "Are you in Arkansas? Is that right?"
God, I hate this.
3 comments:
I'm sorry. These things are SO hard. So hard for every single person involved.
They really are.
It's worse for my brothers and their wives, because they live in/near New Orleans, and they have to deal with the day-to-day stuff. But it's just heartbreaking for all of us.
Your loved one, my loved one...lost to themselves and to us. But if you can bear to see a truly searing portrait of this horrific affliction, look for Elizabeth is Missing with Glenda Jackson (a very courageous choice, as it was her comeback performance after an absence of twenty-five years as a Labour MP).
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