Norma and the Not So Distant Drums
But I cherish these aimless hands and remember the otherworldly ecstasy of holding them the first time.
Read MoreBut I cherish these aimless hands and remember the otherworldly ecstasy of holding them the first time.
Read More“I'm your memory,” I tell her, “I'll tell you what you've forgotten.”
Read MoreIf we could just be freeze-framed in this moment, it would be a good way to die.
Read MoreI beg her forgiveness, serve her breakfast and try to catch a millisecond nap while she eats and watches the “Today” show's glib answers to all human problems.
Read MoreLater, she awakens again and asks me to sit with her. She tells me she never feels good. As I try to discover why, the elliptical phrases start-- “I want to . . . ,” “I wish we could . . .,” “Where are . . . .” They are tantalizing thoughts she never completes.
Read MoreNorma slept late again today, staying abed long past the prescribed time for her arsenal of medications.
Read MoreWhen someone you've been close to for a long time loses memories, so do you.
Read MoreThe main reason I want Norma to sleep as long as she can is that our normal days are filled with nothing much but sitting.
Read MoreNorma has never been a hypochondriac.
Read MoreIn the years that followed, Norma and I would each accommodate and respect the other's “parallel loves.”
Read MoreNow her head moves left to right as if she's taking it all in, page after page.
Read More“Let's go. Let's go,” she urges. I wonder if she's dreaming.
Read MoreIt's true that nearly all my waking hours are spent caring for Norma—and that ain't easy. But it's also true that I have enormous advantages most caregivers don't.
Read MoreThere are too many surprises left.
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