He Told Me to Choose Him or My Dementia-Stricken Father—So I Did

said, too cheerful. Too loud. “How you doing?”

Dad smiled like a kid being picked for a team. His shoulders lifted.

“I’m… I’m good,” Dad said, then glanced at me, checking. “I’m good, right sweetheart?”

“You’re good,” I told him.

Mark looked past my father to me, and his eyes sharpened.

“Can we go somewhere private?” he asked.

“This is my house,” I said.continue reading …