Behind the Title

Always age creeps up on you. Yesterday my father was picking me up, twirling me around. Now his teeth are gone, he chews his food with bare gums. I love him, and he’s all I have left of my family, and I am all of his.

This week I found out that my Dad has dementia. I honestly didn’t think that I could hear anything worse until I found out that I had terminal cancer. I had only a few months to live. I spent most of my last month’s with my Dad, me degenerating physically, Dad degenerating mentally.

I’m on hospice and I’ll die within the week. I call my Dad, and say, “Dad, I’m going to die soon. Very soon. I won’t last a week.”

I think that what happens next kills me more than anything. I hear him cough then say, “I’m sorry, who are you?”


This story is a work of fiction. I have not had any experience similar to this. It does seem to ring true in today’s culture. All too often all we think of is popularity and relationships. If someone to forget about us or we were to be left behind it would be devastating. When it happens to me I feel depressed. Anonymity sometimes seems as much death as anything else.



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