One day it is either:
“I don’t know your name” or “Hey it’s just dear old dad calling”
“Why is this happening” or “I don’t have it as bad as others”
“Find a doctor to fix me” or “Doctors say it’s all from the stroke”
“Why won’t he take me home” or “Mom and Fuzz will be waiting”
…Some days he mumbles incoherently trying to say what he needs or telling a story. Other days he is articulate and aware.
…Some days he is confused and muddled when trying to do normal daily routines. Other days he is accurate and focused.
…Some days he understands his situation is from the strokes and normal aging. Other days his frustration and struggle to understand is so painful to watch.
…Some days he wants to go fishing, feed horses or just get out of his chair. Other days he just wants to die.
…Some days I wish he would go to sleep and not wake, so he will be at peace with his mother and brother. Other days I love that I can help him or tease him or share a story or tell him a secret.
…Everyday my heart aches knowing he is aware of what is happening to his mind and body.
…Everyday I know I will miss him when this journey is over.
…Everyday I see him I say “I love you” because tomorrow is always uncertain.
…Every time I am closing his door to go home he will raise his good hand and say “I love you”
Every day I wonder if I will be lucky enough to have those be his last words to me…