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

gonna be mad.”

I bit down on a sob.

“She’s not mad,” I whispered into his hair. “She’s not mad.”

He clung to me like he was drowning.

And in that moment, I understood something no one prepares you for:

Dementia isn’t just forgetting.

It’s reliving old fears with a brain that no longer knows how to come home.

I got him back inside.

I locked the door.

I sat on continue reading …