FOR GREGORY. He was not a VICTIM of ALZHEIMER'S DISEASE, he was a HERO!
PLEASE NOTE: Even though this blog is now dormant there are many useful, insightful posts. Scroll back from the end or forward from the beginning. Also, check out my writer's blog. Periodically I will add posts here if they provide additional information about living well with Dementia / Alzheimer's Disease.
Sunday, December 13, 2015
All Quiet on The Western Front
Isaac, my God-Son moved out of the condo on Friday into his new apartment, after three months of living here. Prior to moving in, he spent three months in Japan, after a brief respite in Chicago, following a year in Japan teaching English.
He asked if he couldn't stay here until he got back on his feet and he is currently standing tall with a good job at Boltwood Restaurant, a ten year old Audi A4 convertible (my old car,) and an apartment of his own.
He and I had agreed to the terms of his living here and we planned ahead of time, serendipitously, for him to move in on the day Gregory started his life passage. Isaac was a great support to me during that difficult time, consoled me, kept me company, sat with me at Gregory's bedside, and all-in-all became even a better God Son, friend, and buddy as we shared October, November, and half of December.
Colleen, wife of Mark Jr, and I spent a "Girl's Weekend" in Chicago. It was just her and me because Mark was traveling. Usually they both visit this time of year for our "Christmas" time together. But since it was just Colleen and me, we called it a "Girl's Weekend."
We exchanged gifts, went to the Kriskringlemarket in downtown Chicago, visited Millennium Park with its official Chicago Christmas Tree and the reflective "Bean" sculpture, had pizza for one dinner, spent the afternoon on Central Street in Evanston, and went to Uncle Guilio's for Mexican food last night.
She left early this morning and I have already begun re-claiming the condo now that she is on her way home to Michigan and Isaac is at home in his new apartment (which ironically happens to be in Gregory and my old neighborhood on Central Street.)
It is "heavy" being here alone, in this quiet with no one to entertain or distract me, with the exception of my two cats, Emma and Gigi.
Gregory is resting peacefully in Grandma Carrie's box on the bookcase shelf in the bedroom and he and I have been carrying on a conversation. About what I am not sure, we are not using words, but his presence is here as am I.
So I once again begin to adjust to Gregory's death, and to living alone with the good part being I can do whatever I want to do when I want to do it. But I am feeling sad, and missing my Gregory, and maybe he misses me.
And it is all quiet on the western front.