Ster again, more sloime, t a time before s it bato ting it, and for a moment sed reading anot s delay any longer. Lon ing for her.
of took a deep breatarted across t, sill sure o finally e until s and saanding in the lobby.
tory ends tebook, remove my glasses, and ired and bloods, but t failed me so far. to I s look back. Instead saring out t tyard, w.
My eyes folloogettern cer breakfast, to arrive. Young adults, alone or o visit tograps a on troll along tree-lined pato give a sense of nature. Some ay for t most leave after a fe I knos not my business. And I do not ever ask t itled to s. But soon, I ell you some of mine.
I place tebook and magnifier on table beside me, feeling to . t surprise me anymore, ts ohese days.
Im not pletely unfortunate, s and do t to make me more fortable. t me tea on table, and I reac is an effort to pour a cup, but I do so because tea is o ion ely rusting a I am rusted no about it. Rusted as a junked car ty years in tlands region in southern Florida).
I o is somet do. Not for duty - alt for anotic, reason. I s still early, and talking about romance isnt really possible before lu not for me. Besides, I s going to turn out, and to be , Id rat get my hopes up.
e spend eacoget aloors tell me t Im not alloo see er dark. I uand tely, and times break te at nig, I o ch her while she sleeps.
Of t not been for ter t I as mueans more to me to explain.
Sometimes, o o forty-nine years. mont long. S forty-five, but si in separate rooms. I do not sleep oss and turn and yearn for of t, eyes open cumble. I sleep to me.
Soon, t. tries in my diary er and take little time to e.
I keep t of my days are t tonig one of t I goes like this:
I neer ruck before t hour
it,
bloomed like a s flower
And stole my ae.
Because our evenings are our o told. I o go because I am too old to devote myself to a sc deep doed only by ts of une (抓阄转轮television game seeture is tVs blare because no one hear well anymore.
Men or me s. "Im so glad youve e," t my wife.
Sometimes I tell t tell tness and augo see tiful place it is. Or I tell togetarry soutures toget sremely positive revieique) revieig in languages I do not uand. Mostly, tell t surn from me, for I kno me to see t reminds tality. So I sit o lessen their fears.
Be posed - be at ease h me...
Not till the sun excludes you do I exclude you,
Not till ters refuse to glisten for you and to rustle for you,
Do my o glisten and rustle for you.
And I read, to let them know who I am.
I to myself, ill-assorted, tradictory, pausing, gazing, bending, and stopping.
If sry. tma, She Psalms. Lovers of words, makers of language.
Looking back, I am surprised by my passion for it, and sometimes I eve it nory brings great beauty to life, but also great sadness, and Im not sure its a fair exc by a reading lamp.
I so. I must get a new cusime.
I reacake it, bony and fragile. It feels nice. Sco softly rub my finger. I do not speak until s days I sit in sileil t her.
Minutes pass before surns to me. S. I take out a ears. S me as I do so, and I wonder w shinking.
"t iful story."
A ligo fall. Little drops tap gently on take is going to be a good day, a very good day. A magical day. I smile, I t .
"Yes, it is," I tell her.
"Did you e it?" s he leaves.
"Yes," I answer.
Surns tostand (nigable, small bedside table). tle cup. Mioo. Little pills, colors like a rainbet to take to supposed to.
"Ive before, I?
"Yes," I say again, just as I do every time on days like to be patient.
Sudies my face. her eyes are as green as o waves.
"It makes me feel less afraid," she says.
"I kno; I nod, rog my ly.
Surns a some more. Ser glass. It is on stand, o takes a sip.
"Is it a true story?" Ss up a little in akes anotill strong. "I mean, did you kno;
"Yes," I say again. I could say more, but usually I dont. Sill beautiful.
S;ell, w;
I ans;t for ;
"?"
I smile. "Youll kno; I say quietly, "by t;
S knoo t t does not question me furtead so fidget. So ask me anotion, t sure o do it. Instead so put it off for a moment ale paper cups. "Is t;
"No, t; and I reaco akes it and looks at tell by t t s to pick up my cup and dump to my mout today. t makes it easy. I raise my cup in a mock toast and y flavor from my moutea. It is getting colder. Ser.
A bird starts to sing outside turn our quietly for a oget is lost, and s;I o ask you somet; she says.
"ever it is, Ill try to ans;
"Its ;
S look at me, and I ot see s.
Some things never ge.
"take your time," I say. I know w she will ask.
Finally surns to me and looks into my eyes. Sle smile, t a lover.
"I dont to your feelings because youve been so o me, but..."
I . me. tear a piece from my and leave a scar.
";
e Creekside Extended Care Facility for t , signed some papers, and just like t o live and die in excime.
S to do t alone, for siess o us, botes in tig. Loudly. I .
A t reminds me t it is my fault, not is artis in t form, roid 风湿症and advanced. My esque no of my tated, but t be able to do ttle t do. So I use my claimes, and every day I take e t to is o do.
Alto be 120, I dont to, and I dont t even if I did. It is falling apart, dying one piece at a time, steady erosion on t ts. My o fail, and my rate is decreasing every montime of tate前列腺. t ake me eventually, t till I say it is time. tors are me, but I am not. I ime for of my life.
Of our five cill living, and t is o visit, ten, and for t even ears t e ures liage, my tribution to times I all, or if s uand anymore.
I he would do if he were me.
I seen y years and a ss. I ot picture s sure if to a failing memory or simply time. I ure of oo en years it will be gone and so will I, and for my diaries, I would swear I had lived only half as long as I have.
Long periods of my life seem to e t remember ts of my life. times I sit and wonder w all has gone.
"My name," I say, "is Duke." I have always been a John ayne fan.
"Duke," so ;Duke." S, her forehead wrinkled, her eyes serious.
"Yes," I say, "Im ; And alo myself.
S and red, and tears begin to fall.
My acime t thing I could do.
S;Im sorry. I dont uand anyts o me rigen to you talk I feel like I s I dont. I dont even kno;
S ears and says, " least, ;
I ans I lie to my ohis.
"You are rengto those who shared in your friendships.
"You are a dream, a creator of ist wouchousand souls.
"Youve led a full life and ed for notual and you o look inside you. You are kind and loyal, and you are able to see beauty eacter t;
I stop for a moment and catc;o feel lost, for:
Not, or be lost, No birtity, form - no object of thing;...
t from earlier fires, ... s;
S oice t topped noer into her room.
S;Did you e t?"
"No, t man."
";
"A lover of ;
S respond directly. Instead sares at me for a long . In. Out. In. Out. Deep breatiful.
"ould you stay ; she finally asks.
I smile and nod. Sakes it gently, and pulls it to . Sares at ts t deform my fingers and caresses tly. ill those of an angel.
"e," I say as I stand effort, "lets go for a ing. Its beautiful today." I am staring at few words.
S makes me feel young again.
S souters of tietury, some said, and I was, and am, proud of her.
Unlike me, o e even t of verses, my e beauty as easily as ted tings are in museums around t I only t one s oe at nig and stare and sometimes cry know why.
And so ting, raising ases, family trips, of graduations and of weddings.
I see grandcos of us, our er, time t seems so typical, yet unon.
e could not foresee ture, but t live o. And ? Retirement. Visits ravel. So travel. I t t perart a I did not kno possibly stles. Small, detailed, impossible to sider no I am not bitter.
Our lives t be measured by our final years, of t lay a seems obvious, but at first I t andable and not unique. S ? S a neig not someone imes se t again I dismissed it as simple mistakes t one makes until ts occurred t I began to suspect t.
An iron in too. But teering ened.
And seoo, for o me and said, "Os o me? Please ; A knot ted in my stomac I dared not t.
Six days later tor met ests. I did not uand t uand t I suppose it is because I am afraid to kno an back t day.
t day day I ever spent. I looked t read and played games I did not t. Finally o us do I remember clearly t my own hands were shaking.
"Im so sorry to o tell you t; Dr. Barn;but you seem to be in tages of Alz;
My mind blank, and all I could t t glowed above our heads.
tages of Alzheimers . . .
My ig to ;O;
And as tears started to fall, to me again:... Alzheimers...
It is a barren disease, as empty and lifeless as a desert. It is a ts and souls and memories. I did not knoo say to h.
tor my age in hink was:
No droop;...
A s t me no fort. I dont kno or hem.
e rocked to and fro, and Allie, my dream, my timeless beauty, told me she was sorry.
I kneive, and I ; I y as a juovepipe (火炉的烟囱).
I remember only bits and pieces of Dr. Barninuing explanation.
"Its a degeive brain disorder affeg memory and personality . . . to tell it differs from person to person ... I er t ime … Im sorry to be to tell you … "
Im sorry...
Im sorry...
Im sorry...
Everyone hemselves.
I dont remember leaving tors office, and I dont remember driving home.
My memories of t day are gone, and in the same.
It of it, if t is possible.
Allie anized, as o leave te . S specific burial instrus, and t in my desk, in ttom drao e. Letters to friends and cters to broters and cousins. Letters to nieces, o me.
I read it sometimes ed by a r fire ters I ten to tters, and noo do so. S to do ; I find I enjoy reading bits and pieces of t as sue me, tters, for romand passion are possible at any age. I see Allie noters, I e to uand t I the same way.
I read t ter I s to tack of letters, tall aself almost ury old, and found tters erime of letters, letters professing my love, letters from my . I glaer from our first anniversary.
I read an excerpt:
o me, and .
I put it aside, sifted tack, and found anoty-nine years ago.
Sittio you, es only to ts, and I kne no man could be more lucky than me.
And after our so time till ring true today:
In times of grief and sorro my oogetry to ears and despair and make it treets of life.
I pause for just a moment, remembering time, just a baby. I y times as long as if asked, I errible to outlive your cragedy I wish upon no one.
I do my best to keep tears a to clear my mind, and find t from our tieto t:
udio covered ted and tired eyes, I kno you are t beautiful he world.
t on, t ired, but I tom of tack. tter remaining, t one I e o keep going.
I lifted t t page into better ligo read:
My dearest Allie, t except for t float from t a loss for is a strange experiene, for ime of memories. But to put it into kno a poet, a a poem is o fully express t you.
So my mind drifts, and I remember t our life togete myself beside t table and I saiful aive and t es sure I uand, I o tell tory.
I called Jeff and David into tcold t us and o me so long ago.
I told t our ed tting in front of ting outside. I told t your mot Lon t day - told t er t day, after you back to town.
t part of tory me, even after all time. Even t t to me only once, and I remember marveling at trengt day. I still agi must to talk to old me t t t on a benc ust stay.
I knoo me he cared for you as well.
No, uand losing you, but you it be fair to release your and angry, and tried for almost an o c ;I t go back ; your decision togetime speaking. I Im sure it only a fe I ood then why your choice was so hard.
I remember t until Kate finally stood to embrace me. "O; sears io ansions, t ask any. Instead, thing much more special.
For t four old me o told stories about tten.
And by t take t ao enjoy it h me.
After t, I rocked in sileoget least in my , and it is impossible for me to remember a time of me. I do not kno day, but I t I thankfully Ill never know.
I love you, Allie. I am ure, every day ogetest day of my life. I will always be yours.
And, my darling, you will always be mine.
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