I’m scared  because I don’t know how to comfort her anymore.

I’m scared because when I go and visit her ,

She  does this trick of making out like her eyes have glazed over into a  dark,shut, emerald door.

I can’t see inside. I try to peek through  the keyhole,  carefully.

There is  seemingly no one there.

Vacant. a word chastened in hyperbole.

The remnants of a body is  clearly  still  in front of me.

I only sit and stare.

I hear a sound – high pitched screams.

It sounds like there is a disturbing altercation   going on in there.

A neighbour  breathes and passes by , leaving  only a scented whisper of

” Feed her chocolate. It keeps her subdued”.

Fair trade Chocolate does not seem like the  ethical solution  to end  a deplorable mental feud.

The air is thick with  my punctuated  words.

WHY?

the neighbour screams,

Red, furious and right up in my face-

“BECAUSE THEN YOU WON’T HAVE TO KEEP UP YOUR NOBLE ATTEMPTS TO MAKE OUT SHE IS STILL A PART OF US HUMANS SPACE“

She is!

look,

Look at her .

I kiss her head and she flirts with that smile.

The neighbour shakes his head.

“All she does is mumble like a car spluttering ,trying to clock one last mile”.

“It would be kinder if they actually just stopped and kept her  underfed.”

Oh really, if she  doesn’t understand then why the hell did she lash  out to hit me ? 

She saw her ring on my finger .

If she is only a  shell then why do  such  emotions come out like she is  a venomous, angered Bee?

“I wish she would go. It has no existence”.

Yes, it is hard to see her exist like this but the only alternative you suggest is that me ,you and her have even more distance.

Maybe I am selfish,

but nobody really knows how much she  knows.

Just because she can’t speak or walk or do much anymore .

it doesn’t meant everyone can just talk  around her like a she is a retard.

 It doesn’t mean she doesn’t feel our ignorance  like fists pummelling  her heart in  fierce blows.

I see the image of her in bed , sleeping with her Teddy bear.

 I can’t take my eyes away from it and just pretend that this is what it is and carry on like I don’t care.

I don’t cry. I will try .

I don’t try . I cry.

Suffer.

Suffer.

Suffer.

If it was me in her place,

 I would make sure I had a will that specified I decided when I wanted to  dissipate into another state or  place.

(For my Gran. Dementia is ……. I am at a loss for words)