The beginnings of Alzheimer’s and the loss of healing

This morn­ing I took my father to his quar­terly cardiologist’s check-up, and while wait­ing our turn, I spoke to him about what I’d been up to at work — about so-and-so that was his client and now mine who called me ask­ing a favour — and he had some dif­fi­culty remem­ber­ing who I was talk­ing about.

No big deal, since it’s been a few years since he’s been in the office.

Then he asked me where my mother was. I missed a beat, then quickly recov­ered to tell him as flatly as pos­si­ble, for who’s ben­e­fit, I still don’t know, that Mummy passed away in Feb­ru­ary it’s been almost four months now.

In eyes dulled by the pas­sage of Parkinson’s, you can still see shock, grief, immense sad­ness, and then resignation.

I do not look for­ward to telling him again when he for­gets again.