Dad was dining with friends on a bright sunny day when he fell into the abyss—the handprints of Parkinson’s disease on his back. His formerly reliable, if unsteady, legs stopped working, and his brilliant mind faded. Nightmares haunted his sleep. Daytime hallucinations taunted his grasp on reality. “Are you really here?” he asked visitors, just to be sure.
In rehab now, Dad tells jokes to the therapist while drawing the hands on a clock and learning math problems he tutored me on in grade school. When alone, he chats with the woman in the lounger whom no one else sees.
Very touching, Frankie
Extremely well written piece of writing.
Lovely little story. A bit dark, but this piece brings up a lot of emotion. I have a father slowly developing dementia and it is nice to see that someone is speaking up for seniors and their maladies.
Very poignant and emotional.
Very well written. Fantastic job
Very well described.
You drew me an outline with enough imagery to let me fill in the blanks to an insightfully touching story.
This is especially touching to me. This was my father.
What a touching portrait!
Beautifully written. I like that the ending is not sad, just factual. From the father’s point of view it seems pleasant to learn and talk with the therapist and the friend that others just can’t see.