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Friends and wit (7/1/2016)
The park was beautiful as we beat our feet against the trail of time.
I pondered the story my friend had told me as I held Janet’s hand. And I
thought about the future, and the past, and the present.
My interjection of quick thinking brought
smiles and laughter
to my friends.
A leaf got caught in Janet’s hair
and stuck tight like I did to her when we met
in school.
Jokes and chides, puns and child-like giggles filled the autumn air.
Puts a name to a face (10/11/2020)
I ended my drifting in and out last night,
Trying to catch
a dream. A dream about… nothing really.
Morning coffee prompted my question to Janet: is today
the day when I see Dr. Hodges?
With care she reminded me, gently.
Alzheimer’s he concluded. Tau and plaques and genes were the masked
Culprits. More like bandits. Small, sneaky, specialized and trying to steal
my things.
Now I have a dis
Ease. Easy now. Slow down. I am still Charles.
Today I am Charles,
tomorrow I will be Charles.
But when will I lose myself?
Strength, I pray, will not be fleeting.
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FOR PROOF (11/11/2020)
This is less of a poem but more of a statement.
I die with no life support, no safety net.
Palliative care is my request.
When the end nears, I do not wish to suffer.
I found out that declarations of sound mind and body are required to make statements like this.
I am of sound mind and body.
My rights are to be respected.
Janet and I have spoken and she understands and supports me.
I have the will to go on, because I still live a fulfilling life.
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This bothered me (1/22/2021)
My grandson and I were having a conversation
and I could not remember for anything his upcoming
wedding date.
I still should have mental strength!
I should not forget something this important,
He said he had told me twice before.
Having a diagnosis did not erase my feelings of embarrassment nor
the look from my grandson’s face.
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Creep in (6/9/2021)
My friends and family tell me
It’s okay to be upset.
My doctor tells me
It’s normal to have increased sleep irregularity.
My wife tells me
It’s alright to forget things.
Nobody told me
How alone I would feel.
Fighting the fight against time,
Earning back dates, experiences, and people from the fog,
Aging without (as much) grace,
Realizing there’s no running from the
Self-doubt that snakes itself through my consciousness.
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An ode to Janet (8/3/2021)
Janet is my wife.
Janet is my loving wife.
Janet is my loving, nurturing wife.
Janet is my loving, nurturing, dedicated wife.
Janet is my loving, nurturing, dedicated, cheerful wife.
Repetition and writing is said to decrease forgetfulness.
Who is this really for then? Is this a demonstration of love or a
Selfish remembering exersize laced with irony?
No: my ability to remember and communicate is different and
will continue to be different.
Love and new strategies will sustain me.
I write the truth.
Janet is my wife.
Janet is my loving wife.
Janet is my loving, nurturing wife.
Janet is my loving, nurturing, dedicated wife.
Janet is my loving, nurturing, dedicated, cheerful wife.
My Love and my Life are not futile.
Embarrassment (1/1/2022)
Had I known I would have forgot where the walmart was,
I wouldn’t be writing this.
My mind could not formulate the route,
My mind-map was fuzzy. I asked for directions at
A gas station, hesitatingly. Did I seem lost to the attendant?
Aren’t men supposed to be good at remembering directions?
My assumed strengths are no longer as robust.
I did not blush red though.
One new strategy to avoid embarrassment
is maintaining composure.
Somebody told me that.
Expectations and Exceptions (1/1/2022)
Life’s becoming expected, for I expect to forget.
Acceptance of forgetting. That is the name of the game.
Tortuously difficult, though, is this game of self-forgiving.
I forgot which key unlocks the door to my house,
And there were a lot of keys on my key ring… unnecessary keys.
So the jingle-jangle in my in my pocket grew softer after that day.
The give and take, the problem and solution aspects of the game are to be expected.
I expect to be locked out sometimes.
The exception is how I feel about it all.
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The move (4/14/2022)
Freedom is a funny bird.
Showy, glamourous, unfettered.
Yet somehow you predict its impeding migration.
Did I know my family would come to the conclusion
Of moving Janet and I to a home with supervision?
I… well…
I’m not sure.
But anger! Oh I was angry. Things were said,
Afraid, for me? No need. Janet and I can manage.
I am aware of my condition. This should be
Reson enough to allow me to choose my fate.
Yet somehow we were driven to the gate behind which was our new
Home.
Sadness’s coworker
Sadness is here.
Today (and I do not know the date off the top of my head)
has been hard. Don’t ask me why.
As I sit and right this,
I Feel Down.
Memory, a once mysterious and seldom thought about concept, is more clear to me now,
Precisely because I am losing it. Misplaced slippers remind me of my disease.
Frustration steps in to relieve sadness from his midnight shift.
Good Day (3/29/2023)
You know those days were things fall
into place? That was today
(I think).
Although I can no longer remember how to play the
Trumpet, the heralding horns of Mozart echo round my
Mind as I listen to the radio. I do not know how long I sat with Janet by the lake
Today, but time with her was enough.
And as I age,
And as I gaze through the double paned room window, I see a blue bird
Whistling as the wind does at night.
That bird has no memories, and it is happy. I still have some, so I should
Be happy.
A visitor (5/5/2023)
Mixed feelings. Someone entered my room. We had a conversation, about
Something. I think it was about my love of baseball.
I do love baseball, or I used to. My swirling thoughts
Are rounding the bases, but
No coaches are telling them to hold or go.
At any rate he was nice. I don’t know his name but I feel like I should. I keep seeing
His face
and it has a familiarity to it. There is a nagging quality to it.
Like a song stuck in your head.
He was nice though, and he made me happy. Spending time with nice people is nice.
Bath (7/24/2023)
I was unable to bathe myself today
Because I was unable to turn on
The fau… knob to the tub.
Janet knocked with a knock that was soft
But loud enough for me to hear.
Who am I so pathetic not to be
Able to keep myself clean?
What ability will be next to go down the drane?
Shadowed Confusion
I can’t remember where I used
To live.
To live, I can’t remember where
I used to live.
It was somewhere, but not here.
No, it was. No, I
Can’t remember where I lived.
Oh God of mercy,
Wet spots sprinkle this page.
My best of days (1?/?/202?)
I ask everyone for everything.
Why do I have the memory of a child.
When even was the last time I went to church?
When even as the last time I prayed?
God this is a prayer.
I write this in the brief clarity given to me
Through the smile my wife still wears.
Chocolates
There are hearts or something on our walls today.
Love is a strange thing, for why did Janet give me
Chocolates? Deer Janet,
These chocolates taste funny on my tongue.
Deer Janet, why do your eyes glisten wetly?
I feel scared. Why are my poms sweaty?
There is this new uncomfortable thing on my ankle
And a light flashes red, green, red.
I just tried to take it
Off but I could not.
Janet just said it’s a monitor.
For what?
A touch joined her voice:
“you wandered into the road a week ago Charles.”
“that keeps you safer now.”
I feel scared. I feel upset.
I never walked into the street.
God as strength
I pray to you, Lord.
My prayer is this:
Comfort for all.
Comfort for Janet.
Comfort for me.
The white dots on the window chill me. But your
Redeeming grace warms me.
Who was that?
I write this minutes after some woman came into my space.
She and I probably talked but I cannot be sure.
Who was that, anyway
Honestly I am frightened. What right does she have to enter my home
I wish that unwanted gests would not come
unannounced.
warm
The weather is warm today
Joy sweet son lite
Rays shine
Rays shine
Rays shine
Rays shine
I like the son and
so do the leaves on the trees.
I don’t want pills.
I am fine. When will people
Let me live my healthy life
I want to be,
Not be controlled.
It is odd, though,
the spoon I use to write this with.
Please don’t forse me, I’ll go eat
When I am hungry
I am not sure what I just read but it must have been sad because I feel sad
The handwriting was messy
Not much of it made any since
It is just a small book with lines in it
It sits hear on the table.
This is probably someone’s
It belongs to not me.
It isn’t mine.
And
who is that picture of on my bedside table?
This book might be hers.
Copyright Bryan Daunt. 2015.