Family Portrait

I held her dainty hand, her fragile bones hidden deep within her withering skin. Her once cerulean eyes, now slate-grey from worries of not knowing, look at me longingly as if I had all the answers. Her time was slipping, and that’s what she wanted; to be with her Papa… her Mama… her Mamoo… I wish she could remember; the stories she told… her children’s names… me… I opened the photo album on my lap. She smiled down at the pictures. “What a beautiful family you have.” My eyes fixated on her, wishing she could remember… they’re her family, too.

From Guest Contributor McKenzie A. Frey

Forgetfulness

Scratching his head, the man struggled to remember where he’d seen her. He felt that he should know her! The look of concern on her face disturbed him, often others came with her, although they seemed distant. He liked the company even though he did not recognize them. Sometimes they would raise a fuss over him. The little ones pleased him most, climbing up on him, laughing, full of life. He always had a good sense of humor, but never telling the same joke twice, or always meeting new people. That’s about as far as his humor went concerning dementia!

From Guest Contributor Derrick Fernie