Round and round
they swirl.
My thoughts. Memories. Reality.
I cannot
escape.
Recalling kinder, happier, safer times—
Remembering when I believed my fortress, my stronghold
impenetrable.
Childhood innocence and naivety.
Oh, the sweet bliss.
A weakening of my refuge
began when I’m eight—too young to understand,
comprehend the loss crushing my parents.
Granddad.
Alzheimer's already stole him from me, snuffed my existence
from his mind.
I still cry for the man I never knew.
A stronger, more devasting blow comes four years later.
When Mom collapses in my arms, sobbing,
“My mother’s gone,” I understand.
Grammy’s gone.
Sadness clogs my throat. Tears blur my vision.
Depression stalks me for three years.
Everywhere I look, her memories linger. Reminders
of whom I’ve lost.
My stronghold wilts.
Two casualties. Will I ever recover?
My Sweet Sixteen year—
overshadowed and dampened
at Death’s unwelcomed storming.
My last grandparent.
Dementia swallowed her memories,
ate away her life. Left behind a shell of the woman
I loved visiting as a child.
Will these attacks ever stop?
Then, Death dealt her cruelest blow:
my mother.
Only 22, I watched her battle Cancer,
watched it consume her health.
Some days good; others harder.
Chemo weakened her;
left her stranded on the couch.
Yet, even knowing her time was short,
her joy never wavered—
not even when the angels stole her away into Glory.
Now, my crumbling bulwark is under another attack.
Alzheimer’s already robbed Dad of his memories. Yet, he still knows me.
But for how long?
Will his loss eradicate my already vulnerable fortress permanently?
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