Still, as I walk through my days my mind wanders to many places. My Father's house which sits empty. His bed at his home, his table in his kitchen....all empty. My Father's room at the dementia facility where he resides. I see him in my mind's eye and wish I could take him home. The last time I visited him, he spoke those words that I dread for the first time since December. "I want to go Home. I am tired of being in this strange place." My heart broke for him and for all of us who love him so much and wish he could be home. I drive to work some days thinking of a way I could care for him in his home. It is my heart speaking. My intellect tells me it is impossible.
On December 15th, 2011 I walked down the sidewalk of his home, and I have not been back since. I cannot go back....not yet. When the day comes and I open the door to that empty house I pray God gives me the strength I will need.

2 comments:
You should write all the time, it is very cathartic.
Yes Claudia....you are right.....
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