I don’t know many people yet in our new town. A steady, nurturing stream of friends from home has wound its way to me, so I should not feel lonely. Our girls and their families live here; I see our grandkids almost every day. That feels so amazingly, incredibly good. Sometimes, I catch myself in the midst of laying yet another mile of Brio train track, or the 100th reading of The New Baby Calf, or remembering which voice to use for the packrat puppet…I catch myself thinking, “We’re here. We did it. This is real.”
Read MoreMy husband has Lewy Body dementia. Probably. No one knows for sure but we are losing him, our daughters and I, we are losing him to a disease that erodes his reason, silences his voice, and plays havoc with his physical abilities.
There are not conclusive tests, except post-mortem, for the diseases that steal cognition. So we think that my father died of Alzheimer’s and we think my father-in-law did so, too.… good, smart, hardworking men whom we loved very much.
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