My Dementia Diary 95 – Returnings

“Where’s your wife?”

The grocery clerks, the drug store help, coffee shop baristas, deli servers, librarians, they all ask the same question. When I return now, alone, to the places we frequented together, they all expect to see the blind guy and his ever cheerful wife. 

But she’s not there, so they ask,

“Where’s your wife?”

And I try to answer, tear up, reach out to hold her hand that isn’t there, start crying, because I’m asking the same question,

Where’s my wife?

tio stib

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My Dementia Diary 93 – A Trail of Hearts

Sorting through her things, my fingers find a shape I know.

a paper heart

A message from a far off place

I love you!

and there are more

she has left me a trail of hearts

with each new discovery
I hold her close
press her memory to my chest

and cry

because paper hearts are not enough

tio stib

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My Dementia Diary 91 – The Last Rose

tenderly
I placed it in her hand
the last rose
the last flower
from the summer garden of our life

she touches the petals to her lips

smiles

and they drive her away

disappear

and she’s gone

oh, how my heart aches for one more kiss
to touch her forehead to my lips
to slowly breathe in the woman
the rose that captivates my soul

but the road is empty now
I’m left alone

wandering a winter garden of memories

tio stib

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