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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2195670
by Neil
Rated: ASR · Prose · Experience · #2195670
The nursing home called. My dad had escaped again only this time he was never going back.
The nursing home called...

They are concerned about my father, who, from this moment on, shall be referred to as daddy.

So...daddy is in the chair of no return.

It's where we all end up...

Some sooner than others, and the very lucky get hit by a bus or die tragically in a skiing accident.

As for the rest of us, the chair awaits.



At least dementia takes away the realisation...

When in that moment of clarity screaming, “KILL ME PLEASE!!!"

But then it is gone...

And like a scratch on a record...

Over and over, until death finally brings relief (to all concerned).

That is a blessing to anyone who ends up in a place...

Where staring at walls and awaiting your own death, is about as good as it gets.
© Copyright 2019 Neil (struggle2bherd at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2195670