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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: My Father's Dementiadots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: annie0888
    ASL Info:    49/f/LA
    Elite Ratio:    4.76 - 327/382/122
    Words: 122
    Class/Type: Misc/Misc
    Total Views: 914
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 692



    Description:
       My dad died a year ago yesterday. So he's been on my mind a little.


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsMy Father's Dementiadots
    -------------------------------------------


    Itís hot, so turn up the heat
    In July because the air conditioner is freezing us out
    And I canít get comfortable.

    Itís so cold, turn down the heat
    Because Iíve piled all these blankets on
    And I think Iím suffocating.

    Whereís the sugar for my coffee
    that I just dumped into the cup
    so that itís too sweet for me not to drink?

    I tried to call you but you never
    come over every day to take me to the doctor that
    I hate because I need the pills that are killing me.

    Remember when you were little
    and Iíd bring you candy
    when I get home from work today?




    Submitted on 2006-09-02 00:25:03     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      this is a stunningly created piece.

    dementia is a horrid thing.
    i worked in a rest home for 4 years straight after finishing high school and i saw time and time again the toll it took both on the resident and their family members.
    fully grown adult children who couldnt come to grips with the fact that their parent had no idea who they were... with their parent chasing them out of their room accusing them of stealing something...
    it was really heartbreaking.

    you have set up the muddledness of the mind all too well.
    this is early stages of dementia here where the person is vaguely aware that something is wrong... they still have all the names and functions of things just tenses and connections are a little out of whack.

    it was so hard to watch people in early stages KNOWING they were forgetting things and unable to do anything about it...

    there is very little i can say about the writing itself. i really do think this is quite a masterpiece when it comes to writing about this subject...

    i hope all is well for you
    | Posted on 2007-06-20 00:00:00 | by Someones Epiphany | [ Reply to This ]
      Itís hot, so turn up the heat
    In July because the air conditioner is freezing us out
    And I canít get comfortable.

    Itís so cold, turn down the heat
    Because Iíve piled all these blankets on
    And I think Iím suffocating.

    Whereís the sugar for my coffee
    that I just dumped into the cup
    so that itís too sweet for me not to drink?

    I tried to call you but you never
    come over every day to take me to the doctor that
    I hate because I need the pills that are killing me.

    Remember when you were little
    and Iíd bring you candy when I get home from work
    today?


    "Remember when you were little..." The close of this write was stunning, not only for its depiction of the time shifting qualities of dementia, but also for demonstrating the subtle shift in the parent/child perspective as both you and your father grew older. Frankly, you've left me no nits to pick, but there is a great deal for those with aging parents to consider.

    BTW, if you've never read Robert Pack's "The Boat," you should. It's very similar in theme to your post. Just a thought.

    Take care of yourself.
    Bill
    | Posted on 2006-09-02 00:00:00 | by rws | [ Reply to This ]
      My sincerest condolences regarding your father. Its a different kind of pain that we never get over - but in time we get better with it.

    The poem is a means of helping yourself. I applaud that. Often times we need our art as therapy more than anything else. Knowing this gives me a different perspective on the work, as opposed to not knowing the background.

    The poem is consistent with the title and the examples of dementia are throughout in every stanza. I assume he experienced some dementia/alzheimer's.

    The poem seems to be direct quotes from your father during his illness.

    Knowing the background, I'd say the poem is a grief poem. There's a pain not just in the death, but in the manner of the death.

    So I think I get it: The manner of how we die is important (though I don't know how yet).

    And I especially like the end. You give examples in the beginning of the altered pyschological state but in the end, you are given a reminder of the way he was before the dementia; in other words, you tell yourself how it is that you want to remember him. Not as a man racked with Alzheimer's but as your father.

    I suppose if you wish, you could make the work a bit longer, and make more comparisons to the illness vs. the way you choose to remember him. But it is whatever you think is best.

    Thanks for sharing,

    T.J.
    | Posted on 2006-09-02 00:00:00 | by tjsmith5 | [ Reply to This ]
      Very sad. The thoughts of your father that you display for us are indeed scrambled and paradoxical. Delusional, not quite there etc... I don't think any of us would like to be in that state. But once in it, we wouldn't know would we?

    Pills killing me... brutal nostalgia.
    Peace,
    Jase
    | Posted on 2006-09-10 00:00:00 | by alteredlife | [ Reply to This ]
      This is just so sad. I almost cried when I read it (don't tell anybody).


    Getting old sucks...

    Peace,

    Joe
    | Posted on 2006-09-02 00:00:00 | by joeyalphabet | [ Reply to This ]


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