Feb. 6 2009

Is it totally evil of me to be jealous of elderly people with intact brains? When I talk to Dad’s friends and neighbors who are close to his age, I find myself wishing that I could snatch their brains and install them in him – but, of course, even if you could transplant brains, you wouldn’t wind up with the same person. Talking to Inga, another of Dad and Charlie’s college friends, really brought it home – while Dad is struggling to remember words like “juice,” Inga is writing her third book!

Today on the train on the way to work I was feeling teary – for some reason, around 3:30pm is when the sadness of Dad’s situation hits me – either my subconscious knows that’s when he used to pick me up at school or, more likely, the train ride to work is the only time when I’m both awake and still and so that’s when the thoughts creep in. At work the kids pretty much drown them out and at home there’s always dishes to wash or litter to change or somebody trying to hypnotize me with their purring, but on the train I think and cry.

Anyway, there I was, and, as often happens at moments of intense emotion, ideas for sculptures began to flood my mind, which makes it harder to live with my decision to prioritize Dad over sculpting. I find myself thinking that maybe I should just give up a shift so I have another evening free – it’s only $90 a shift, so it’s not a huge financial loss, but it does feel like taking a step away from the shelter and our little community of kids, staff and volunteers, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that. I already feel that like I’m letting go of Dad, little by little, like a spool of thread slowly unwinding.