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Two words to describe a day of memory and the promise of hope
Six friends and I visited Evelyn’s gravesite on the one-year anniversary of her death. It was a simple gathering. And perfect.
The touch I cherish. (Cherish, because it speaks of so much more)
Would we call it sad, this survival scene
with two people
who once recklessly pledged their love
for each other?
Saturday, Sunday, sad: Her memory is the least of her losses
A slice of our life to give a broader picture of our every day with Alzheimer’s. Memory is only the beginning of the problems.