To My Father, in the Memory Unit

To my Father, in the Memory Unit at Fox Hollow

Thoughts whisper and beckon
Just beyond reach
Memories linger
On the edge of recognition
Faces fade, then meld
Into something familiar
But unrecognizable
Until the world is daily anew
And confusing
As in the first days
Of your life.

Vague notions of a past
Before this morning began
Flit past the window
While you stare through the glass
Wondering where you are
Spending your days
With meandering thoughts
That do not even make sense
To you
Even less to those people
The ones who surround you
Caring but distant
These are the last days
Of your life.

Synapses fire
In random succession
Thoughts parade by
Trying to connect
They remain isolated
And isolated, they wither
Rendered impotent
By the lack of completion
They trail off, a sentence left hanging
Without a satisfying conclusion
Your logic fails you
Your words fade away
These are the final days
Of your life.

Cognitive misfires
Obsessive delusions
Misconceptions
Daily confusions
Too much sadness
Descent into madness?
Questioning God
And the heavens above
Seeing your family
Feeling the love
That bridges the chasm
Between your past and your present
The only feeling
Truly transcendent
That lingers on clearly
Like a dear old friend
As people become strangers
As you near the end
Of your daily struggle
To make sense of your world
The one true constant
Of your life.

You may have forgotten
More than you know
But others share your memories
Keep them alive
Relive the good times
Of your life.

You may have forgotten
People that you know
But we are your memories
We are alive
Your family lives
The legacy
Of your life.