My grandmother recently passed away. She'd had dementia for quite a few years, and in a cruel "death by a thousand cuts" it's a disease that robs you of... you.
But it also robs your family of you, it replaces you with a physically present but empty shell in the shape of a human, who is not particularly pleasant to be around because, to quote The Zombies, "she's not there". One of my (irrational) fears is to be remembered by my family as I will be in my later, doddering years, rather than as the spritely, attentive, loving, and supportive father I've worked hard to be presently. Maintaining my health and intellectual curiosity is partially in pursuit of extending my stay outside of doddering old-age-hood as long as possible.
This story sounds similar, but all the more tragic because Lee Holloway was in early-mid life.
A shuddering reminder of the cold apathy of the universe, and to be thankful for, well, pretty much any good thing you've experienced ever.
But it also robs your family of you, it replaces you with a physically present but empty shell in the shape of a human, who is not particularly pleasant to be around because, to quote The Zombies, "she's not there". One of my (irrational) fears is to be remembered by my family as I will be in my later, doddering years, rather than as the spritely, attentive, loving, and supportive father I've worked hard to be presently. Maintaining my health and intellectual curiosity is partially in pursuit of extending my stay outside of doddering old-age-hood as long as possible.
This story sounds similar, but all the more tragic because Lee Holloway was in early-mid life.
A shuddering reminder of the cold apathy of the universe, and to be thankful for, well, pretty much any good thing you've experienced ever.