A poem, on the raw landscape of looming dementia.
Awweee she’s alone on the ride 🥲
We're living to greater and greater ages, but we're not doing it painlessly. This is so sad, grindingly so.
"Her language unflowing"....oh man. Thank you for sharing such a difficult journey.
Yes, Ian, I can see the shared experience between you and me, and in our poems. It is hard, then I think, this is what living is. This is life.
I wrote a prose piece today about my illness as a baby and then my having a boy with autism.
But this is living, no matter how angry I'm getting with my old father. I need more patience. Do you have any to spare?
Yeah feeling this. The relentless incremental losses.
I loved it. I felt it in my bones, because this is what I go through with my mother.
Thank you for this, and for posting on mine and letting me know I am not alone. I had been writing to the void, but your comment was a connection to the world.
Very touched by it all, Ian. Re-reading and misting up again.
❤️
Awweee she’s alone on the ride 🥲
We're living to greater and greater ages, but we're not doing it painlessly. This is so sad, grindingly so.
"Her language unflowing"....oh man. Thank you for sharing such a difficult journey.
Yes, Ian, I can see the shared experience between you and me, and in our poems. It is hard, then I think, this is what living is. This is life.
I wrote a prose piece today about my illness as a baby and then my having a boy with autism.
But this is living, no matter how angry I'm getting with my old father. I need more patience. Do you have any to spare?
Yeah feeling this. The relentless incremental losses.
I loved it. I felt it in my bones, because this is what I go through with my mother.
Thank you for this, and for posting on mine and letting me know I am not alone. I had been writing to the void, but your comment was a connection to the world.
Very touched by it all, Ian. Re-reading and misting up again.
❤️