April 23, 2010
My dad taught me the first prayer I ever recited; “Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take”. A simple child’s prayer, but in the face of my dad’s Alzheimer’s it has taken on a new meaning, especially now when my dad can’t speak well enough to recite the prayer. My father is slowly dying with his eyes wide open. He is not asleep. He knows exactly what is happening. How cruel can an illness be? To rob a person of their personality, their self, who they are, and to have no recourse but to sit back and watch as it happens. To lose yourself while you are wide awake. I cry sometimes because I want dad to just fall asleep and not have to suffer through this horrible soul stealing monster. Then I feel guilty and repent of those thoughts, but too late I think the wind has heard me…
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