My father passed away last week. An event that I've been dreading all my life. It was at once both harder and easier to handle than I'd expected it would be. But then, I've been mourning the father I used to know for several months now.
He had Alzheimer's, you see. He was not the same man that I'd grown up adoring and by whom I was adored (and spoiled even more). He wasn't completely gone, far from it. But with his failed eyesight and lack of hearing his world was small and dully void of his mischievous wit.
Ah, the stories I could tell about the mischief which filled my father's life! If I was motivated enough I'm sure I could create an entertaining book.
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