Counting Backwards

And suddenly he is a ten year old. Able to use power-tools, but not unsupervised. He is smart and has great ideas, but some just aren’t feasible.

And the ten year old is suddenly six. He can be left to his own devices for short periods, but cannot be left alone. He is curious about what things are, and how they work.

And the six year old turns three. He struggles with the words to express himself. He sulks and removes his diaper, peeing around his room. Logic is not formed. Full of wonderment and fear at the world around him, but without the words to ask why.

He is two now, and striking out at the world around him. He takes apart the phone, but no longer to fix or figure out the workings, but just because it is there, and he can. The physical dexterity is there, but not the workings of complex inquiry or reason.

The toddler will become infant again. Reduced to sleep, sustenance and bodily functions. He will not have mobility, and be constrained to bed.

Through all but the end there are momentary glimpses of the man he will become. The husband and father. Scholar, teacher, neighbour and friend. But these become fewer, and farther between.

Alzheimer’s doesn’t just rob us of time, it turns it backwards.

Daddy I love you and will remember for us both.