The intern was running the art session this afternoon, and I managed to get my father to join in. She gave him red paint and paper after she drew a bunny on one sheet. My father had a great time writing words: "antidistribution" (not a word) and "waste russia." The letters were formed well. On the other sheet, after he outlined the bunny, he wrote "red dog" and "revolutionary."
I'm glad the regular art therapist wasn't there. These sorts of free associations really shake her up.
My father died peacefully on February 6, 2012. I had arrived a few hours before he died, so I had time to sit by him and talk and even moisten his lips with the long-promised scotch I had with me. I don't know if he heard me, but he smacked his lips from the scotch, My father had Alzheimer's and had donated his brain to the Alzheimer's study he'd been part of at Columbia Presbyterian Medical Center. I'll continue to post for a while.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
art therapy
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