I hear myself saying, “I love you, truly, madly, deeply.” Why am I always quoting, inserting film titles or song lyrics?, I ask myself with mild annoyance at the habit of anchoring my affections in cultural history.
I think it’s to acknowledge how normal it is. To love and to care, to adore the man I love [there I go again] is something others have done. It’s routine. It’s not unusual.
It seems I need to validate that for sentimental reasons.
The distance from cognitive impairment to making no sense has become a matter of days. Oh, I know it’s been a trajectory of up and down over many years. I have carefully documented the ride we’re on in my diary of days and publicly here.
We are at the point of no return, I think; the place where he can settle only deeper into confusion.
I have said this before but I know that my expressions of love and devotion are to reassure him and remind me. I am anchoring and holding fast in a storm of emotions.
I need to recall what love is as I feel the sadness, the sorrow. The loss.
this is our life 