Well, what can I say?
Last night was long and heavy. Joan went to bed around 9:30 p.m., earlier than usual, because she wasn’t feeling well. The weight of her dementia has been pressing more heavily on her lately. It's a cruel, unforgiving disease that chips away at the person I’ve known, moment by moment, memory by memory. Watching it unfold is like trying to hold onto her while she slowly fades in front of me.
I didn’t go to bed until around 3 a.m. I sat there in the quiet, just thinking, unable to sleep, partly out of exhaustion, partly out of worry. Sometimes, the silence feels louder than anything else.
We both slept late and didn’t wake up until around 1:00 in the afternoon. The day slipped by quietly after that. I didn’t get much done, not in the way most people would count productivity, no errands, no tasks crossed off a list. But I stayed close to Joan, and sometimes, that’s all that really matters. Just being there. Holding a hand, answering a repeated question with patience, trying to create a little calm in the midst of the storm.
Some days are like that. I do what I can, and let the rest go.
