Lately, I've been looking at my grandpa's face trying to rewind it back to when he was younger; try to picture the face without all the wrinkles and wither. This is the second person I have had to help take care of while they slowly disintegrate and die. I don't feel bad for myself, no...not exactly. That's life after all, and millions of people have to go through with it. That doesnt mean I can't vent about it...it doesn't mean I have to shut up about it.

I can't picture it, anyway if you were wondering. It doesn't work. All I can see is the old man...I think that's what makes me the saddest out of everything...is that I just didn't know him too well when he was young, healthy, and happy.

Although I remember him teaching me how to play piano.
I remember him throwing a frizbee around his backyard.
I rememeber when he used to paint me pictures and watch jeapordy with me.
I remember how he always called me, and still calls me even though he doesn't seem to remember a thing, his boy.

And I'll always be that. I'll always be his grandson and that's okay.
Everything will be okay.

Right?
Right.

You wanna tell him all these things...but you can't because he has Dementia.
You know it sucks and it is a horrible feeling, but sometimes you want your grandma to come take his hand and walk away...gracefully and with dignity. Let this man go out knowing he was an amazing person, a perfect father, and a wonderful grandfather.

At least let that.
Right?

Yeah...at least that.