dementia is such an ugly disease. my dad and i certainly weren't perfect, but he's my dad. the man who taught me to walk and picked me up off the floor, i have had to watch him lose his ability to walk. i will never have another conversation with my father again. i will never hear another joke, another life story, another word of advice ever again. he's alive, yes, but that ugly disease has taken my father.
he was supposed to teach me how to drive. he was supposed to see me graduate college whenever i decided to go. my life is just truly beginning, and his is ending, and it's not fair. he won't get to see the person i will become.
i try so hard to remember our last conversation but i can't. and it kills me that i can't even remember the last thing my dad said to me.
having to grieve the living is so cruel because the pain is only prolonged. i am hurting so bad. i have cried every day for the last week. i don't know what to do or how to cope. my chest stays tight, i'm constantly nauseous, and air feels scarce.