Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • Today marks the two-month anniversary of my father's death. When I think of my father, which is often, this is the first picture that I see in my mind.

    Dad resided in a "memory care unit" due to being in the latter stages of Alzheimer's. As he shuffled slowly and unsteadily down the hallway, eyes vacant, the first thing I thought of was a zombie. It is the strangest feeling in the world not to recognize the man you spent the first 18 years of your life with.

    I put my arms gently around him, afraid I would shatter his fragile frame, and whispered in a ragged breath, "I love you."

    I felt helpless as I held his hand, helped him to the bathroom, wiped the steady drip of drool from the corners of his mouth. His face retained a haunted look of despair. I never saw him smile or heard him laugh again.

    Dad had battled Alzheimer's valiantly, but the disease ultimately won the war.
    • Share

    Connected stories:


Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.