Watermarks of Joy

There is a mourning superimposed on watermarks of joy. Such is the normal human response to a loved one's release from Alzheimer's diseased effects.  I do not hesitate to admit that I already miss Poppi and anticipate the pang of family gatherings without him. My bocce compadre/adversary has been taken from me, but I cannot succumb to the hurt of absence without remembering the last time we played and how I had to remind him every turn of the rules of the game he knew so well. Looking down this week upon his shrinking frame I did not want him to go, yet silently prayed he would.  And now he has, and I appeal to Heaven that the peace that is his will soften the ragged corners of our grief.

Reason with Grief

You can't reason with grief. Every evidence indicates my father- in- law will soon lose his struggle with Alzheimer's.  He's been declining for more than two years, so logic declares that this is for the better. Reason chimes in that Poppi really left us some time ago.  And theology whispers he'll soon be in a better place.  I cannot and would not argue against logic, reason, or theology. The fact of the matter is, I agree. Alzheimer's is an insidious mystery and release from its ghastly grip can be nothing but positive.  Having admitted all associated truth, the intense sense of loss weighs heavy.  It hurts to lose a family member we love. It wounds to know we'll never see him again in this life.  Try as I might, I can't reason with grief.