I feel as if I’ve swallowed a pail of glass shards looking between these photos, trying desperately in my mind to piece back together the last 7 years. Alzheimer’s disease bestowed a terrible grace upon my family. As it ravaged my mother’s mind and body to death, it stole my father’s capacity to comprehend this brutality. Even the moments when he did comprehend – the mornings she sat slumped and drooling over her cereal bowl, the days she fell into inconsolable hysterics, the nights she kicked and clawed and shouted from the bed – even these moments faded quickly from his memory. He didn’t have to bear the heaviness. Every day it was, “Do you want to go for a walk Mom?” Even when she could no longer walk. “Are you hungry Mom? Would you like a snack?” Even when she could no longer eat. But now it’s as if she has faded altogether. She has been gone for 7 months. He hasn’t asked for her in weeks. And this, to me, is the most terrible grace. Because: he is free and she is gone. Because: he is happy and she is ash. Because: he forgets… and she is forgotten.