Every now and then when least expected
The wound that is Dementia/Alzheimer's
reopens and I bleed again a little more.
It will probably never heal completely
And I do not expect or hope for it to do so
The pain does become a little more bearable.
The reality of it and the implications hit
When I lease expect it and I have no one
With whom to cry; no bang my fists, sob, howl.
The one person who used to help me cope
Is inadvertently the one person who now
Is the reason for the emotions, the sorrow.
He is still able to help but in a different way
In a very different capacity so now I must
In most ways be strong for him, for me, for us.
I am more quickly able to staunch the flow of pain
And get back to experiencing and acknowledging
The good and joy in my life carried on sorrow's shoulders.
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