The Wall

Dementia grief is grieving in the present tense for years. People tell me to treasure the time left like I am not already wringing it out with both hands. The appointments stack up until life feels like a waiting room with snacks. Every small decline feels like an event nobody else heard. There are moments they look right at me and I can feel the person I know flicker and go dim. I am grieving someone who is still here and somehow that makes me lonelier. I keep trying to memorize the voice before it changes again. The appointments stack up until life feels like a waiting room with snacks. People tell me to treasure the time left like I am not already wringing it out with both hands. I am grieving someone who is still here and somehow that makes me lonelier. There is no clean line between before and after here.