Magazine Posts

Will you still love me
when I see you today?
I dearly hope you will,
for this I will pray.

Sweet dreams, my love,
Sweet dreams to you.
Knowing you don't remember
I will remember for you.

Perhaps, it's you who inspires me,
for after our meeting,
my words are flowing,
quickly, loosely and free.
My arthritic hands start
cramping more frequently.

I have no intent
to quell the memories
my wife still has,
although, to me,
I feel on some days
it is the intent of others,
not in an obvious way.

When I hear, "I love you,"
stated to me, every day,
the words pique my emotions.
How do you cut some one
from your life
using a quasi, form of exile.
Something is missing.

It is the love of another.

Brackish the mind,
full of anguish and pain
of a losing of life.
How much time will remain
to relieve these moments,
by trying to explain
to one without reason,
whose forgotten your name?

A barren plain of sorrow,
is my life's path unchosen,
as I trudge towards the morrow,
of broken dreams, memories lost.
Life was special but isn't now.
Is she about to embark
on this painful journey?
I sit beside her,
she is alone, in her mind.
Providing comfort to her,
reducing the worry,
is my new task.
I cannot bear the thought
of her mental burden,
being this painful for her.
She doesn't remember,
but I still do.
The sadness is destroying me.

I visit my wife, most every day.
Going in early afternoon
and leaving after helping her to bed.
Last night she was confused. Not
knowing what to do. The first time
I have seen this behavior.
No concept of where to go or
what to do next.
She comments, "I'm alone. I need
to be with you."
I believe I now understand. She is
a young girl, in her mind, with no
memory and is mentally alone.
This must frighten her,
when she sits, a broken shell,
from her life before,
but still clinging to the love
she knew.

Sitting and listening,
as my wife introduces
me as her husband,
again, once more,
to those at the Memory
Care Facility, who've heard
this story before.
She isn't aware of the
repetition. I do love it
when she tells them.

I write out the words
of love, in this life,
especially when I'm
thinking about my wife.
She's in a Memory care
home, the rest of her life,
never to return home,
to be with her family

I must leave
I say with a sigh
for it's time for bed
as the dawn draws nigh.
You are my friend
and hear my plea
to help me retain
my lost sanity.
Thank you now,
for all you have done,
to help me be
the original one.
Whatever that means.

Why do you worry,
Why do you cry?
I will not leave you,
Nor will I try.

You loved me before,
and you love me today,
as Dementia came calling
and took you away.
You tell me you love me,
I believe that is true
and I'll love you forever,
as I need to do.