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BC Jaime Mar 2018
I went to your house today.
You remembered I was coming.
And to take a bath. And eat.
You told me a story that happened
yesterday, not seventy-five years ago.
You didn’t ask the same question
thirteen times. There was no argument
about prescription drugs or bloodwork.
You didn’t slam the door.
But, of course, none of that happened.
How could it?
You are here and
you are
gone.


[Note: This poem was originally published in Cadence Collective's anthology Then & Now: Conversations With Old Friends, available for purchase here: https://sadiegirlpress.com/2015/11/04/then-now-conversations-with-old-friends/]
© BC Jaime 2014 || IG: @B.C.Jaime

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/.
William Clifton Mar 2018
For your sake Mom, Dad
Truth comforts not Dementia
Your Loving Lier
R Mar 2018
“It’s just a disease”
They tell me.
But really, it is more than that.
Taking, taking, it just takes what you love
And leaves a big
E M P T Y
Hole.

“It’s just one person”
They tell me
But really, it is more than that.
Taking, taking, it just takes who you love
And leaves a big
E M P T Y
Hole.

“We can still remember him”
They tell me.
But really, how can you?
When he didn’t remember you?

It’s not just a disease.
It’s not just one person.
You may not ever remember him,
How he was
Before.

Before,
He offered us popsicles,
And told us stories
Like the one with the toll bridge.

Before,
He knew my dad
And not just as a “Gastonia boy”.

Before,
He gave us hugs
And you can’t hug someone
You don’t recognize.
You can’t love someone
You don’t recognize.

And yet he does.
Tribute to my great-grandfather. He died of Alzheimer's when I was in the fourth grade. I still think about him a lot.
Seema Feb 2018
I am a small boat in a big ocean, all alone tugging along a wrecked ship...

Nights pass with heavy loads and day breaks with hardwork, yet I tug alone my wrecked ship...

Many storms come along, with tide so swift that I nearly lose my grip on my wrecked ship, lightening so bright and thunder roars gives me shivers of doubt that I might not make to the shore with my wrecked ship...

With a high aim and certainty, I tug along with my wrecked ship...

Days go by and I still see no land, will I be able to safely shore my wrecked ship...

Sometimes I see land but my sight has gone so blurry that even reality passes my sight...

Thinking I was taking the right path to the shore but the waves sway me in all directions, it's hard to tell which direction I am in now...

It's a big ocean and am all alone tugging my wrecked ship...


©sim
It becomes rather challenging when you are looking after a loved one going through a severe stroke and Alzheimer's. A mother is a mother, her love cannot be replaced by any other.
Contoured Feb 2018
Alzheimers:
Noun
A progressive mental deterioration that can occur in middle or old age, due to generalized degeneration of the brain.

I remember, but I'm reluctant to use that word,
Because you are incapable of defining a memory.
You now know a memory as a fictional reality,
From which you formulate your world.

To me, It's as vivid as what's right before me.
The past, that is.
The only contrast?
I'm able to distinguish it from now.

I reminisce on the moments,
The ones where you'd call me your "special little girl,"
The ones where you'd calm the discord arising in the room.
The ones where you could recall my name,
The ones where you could identify my countenance.

I miss your smile,
The one illuminated by stories of the past.
I miss your stories,
Those of war,
Those of love,
Your memories,
They're gone.

Now, everything has changed,
You still respire,
But for no purpose anymore.
The air you inhale does not keep you alive,
It keeps you existing.

I still see you,
Materially, you're there,
But mentally,
You've been gone for years.
I can't determine if it's easier this way,
Or if it'd be of greater benefit for the both of us if you also retired physically.

It's not fair to you,
It's not fair to me.
The most arduous task I'll ever document will be this:
I am grieving your loss,
But you're still here.
I know this life is no longer worth living to you,
And although the life you've lived is priceless,
I wish it didn't have to reach this bitter variation of an end.

I always pictured you in further parts of my life.
My wedding day.
I'd dreamed of you there to meet my husband,
And soon enough, my children,
But I can't have that.
Not all wishes come true,
And I've yet to accept that fact.

But it's time for you to leave,
You want to go back home.
I want you to find peace,
But I'm scared to let you go.

I'm not upset,
I'm scared,
I'm hurt.
It's not your fault,
You are too.
The blames to give,
To this condition,
That wrongfully affected you.

Though you've forgotten me,
You'll never leave my mind.
I hope you know I'll always love you,
Even when you leave my side.
For my grandfather.
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