Don't forget

Don't forget to speak
to his eternal self
though it is temporarily
trapped
in disease
that makes one think
he can't hear you,
but he can.

His soul can.

How is it?

Hey ma, so how is it now,
by yourself in the house?

Oh, it's weird.
I miss dad being here.
You know, when he was nice, not the agitated times.
I don't like thinking about him being somewhere else.
I guess I will get used to it though, huh?
Like my mom said, after my dad died, you just get used to it,
it's not comfortable, you just get used to it.
I guess that's how it is.

When will I stop looking

Last night I spent hours online,
again,
researching a last hope
given by a single doctor
two years ago.

He wasn't really wrong,
but it is still,
Alzheimer's.

And I wondered if that
was truly my last hope
of waking dad up.

But I will most likely
keep looking for another hope.
When will I stop looking?
How could I stop looking?

Go home again

Hi, this is Shana. Is it a good time to talk to my dad?
Yep, hold on, let me get him.

Hello?

Hi dad.
Well hi, son. Gosh, how are you?
I’m good dad. I’m calling to say hi to you.
Well that’s great. Good to hear from you.

When are you coming to get me outta here?

I’d sure like to go home.
I don’t think I did anything wrong to be in here.

I got some work to do in town, dad, and then I will come see you.

Ok, I can pack my stuff up and be ready

for when you get here.

I saw a little bear today, dad. He was a little cinnamon color.

Oh yeah, they had them in here today too.

I think about three or eight.

Oh wow. That must’ve been exciting.

It was. Got a little hairy ya know.

They were wandering around over there.
I think they came outta that way or something.

So, I’ll be ready when you get here and you can

take me home then?

When I finish up with work I’ll come see ya.

Yeah. Gosh you’re a good son, er son, ah, daughter.

Then we could go home to mom and be a dad and mom and daughter again.

Hey dad

Hey pop.
I have to go back to Idaho now.
I got work there to do.
We've been through some tough stuff here lately, huh.
But you're a tough old guy,
and you're doing really good now.
You look happy and healthy again.

I will call you like, everyday, to talk.
And don't worry, I'll still check up on everything for you.
But I can't stay here any longer, right now.
You know I have work.
And I know you understand, dad.

But,
I will miss seeing you all the time.
I will miss hanging out with you.
I will miss joking around with you.
I will miss watching out for you.
I will miss taking care of you.

So for now I gotta go, dad.
I will miss you.
I love you.
See you later, dad.

I still see him

Sometimes, I still see him,
like he used to be.
Sometimes, for a moment,
I forget about the disease
and have a clear moment,
of him.

He's in there.
Trapped inside a disease.
Trying so hard to get out.
Sometimes, he breaks through,
finds an open window
and says hi,
from behind the walls of this
disease.

And in the same moment
I watch the disease claim him,
again.
Trap him.
Close the window.
So I only see him starring,
waving at me,
through a closed window pane,
that I want to break.

I wish I could break it for you,
dad.

Someday, it will be broken.

Someone with me

As I was sitting in the room with my dad,
crying for my dad,
watching him,
screaming at the walls,
throwing pictures,
hitting walls,
pulling on the door I was sitting against,
I felt someone sitting with me.

So strong did I feel it
a male figure,
a father's presence,
sitting on the floor with me,
legs outstretched, hands in His lap,
sad with me, sad like I was sad,
feeling what I was,
as if He was watching His dad,
and so much did I feel
that if I reached out I would
touch flesh,
that I spoke to Him,
out loud.