The Missing

If you’ve lived with dementia in any way, take comfort from this. Wow. As I listened, thinking about my Mom and others in my life, I smiled some. We’re the one’s who choose to suffer, I think. The loss is more ours than their’s after a time. And as real as it is, wouldn’t we better off focusing, in an almost viciously selfish way, on what was? I think so.

I don’t miss them anymore. Or any less.

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