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.
The nursing home sometimes doesn't look like a real place where people live. I wouldn't say it's depressing, exactly, but it looks kind of like a motel. A nice motel.
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