I’ve been pondering this week’s blog for several days.
It’s like I’ve had writer’s block and been avoiding the computer.
What I want to say is hard to think about, let alone sit down and type.
That’s despite this particular piece of writing, having been on the wall for a long time.
It’s three years now that it’s been scrawled there – metaphorically speaking – ever since my dad was first diagnosed with dementia.
I’ve been avoiding looking at it, contemplating it.
Now it’s come in black and white in a letter through the post from his mental health therapist: “There is little more that I can do. It will be worth considering placement options for the near future, in light of the decline.”
In other words, the time has come to face up to dad having to go into a nursing home.
Ironically, this week’s wordpress writing challenge is about memoirs.
It carries an Oscar Wilde quote at the start: “Memory… is the diary that we all carry about with us.”
Dad has lost his.
And it’s left me lost for words.