“It’s essential to know what’s going on in the world”, my dad used to say.

“It defines who you are as a human being!”

So he taught us to read multiple newspapers, watch the news, and be interested in politics, culture, and history.

Study, remember, reflect, and discuss.

Know shit.

Always use your mind.

That was his thing.

For most of his life, he was the erudite man, the smart and politically engaged citizen of the planet.

An educated stage actor, well-read, and a teacher.

He loved discussions, he loved reading.

He was always up to date.

And now he has Alzheimer’s.

Yeah.

It’s pretty ironic, because all the stuff he knew about everything, all the things that were so important to him and seemed to define him, are mostly shattered or dissolved.

He doesn’t read newspapers anymore, and he doesn’t watch the news (and if he does, he doesn’t remember).

He has no clue what’s going on at present, because most of the time he has no idea in what year he’s living, or even where he is.

My dad’s all over the place, that’s for sure.

Sometimes he talks about what happened 60 years ago in great detail and with a lot of passion, and then he seamlessly connects that to something that is going on right now.

His memories are like floating pieces, connecting in no specific order.

He talks about my mom, how we’re all going to have dinner together that evening, only to remember that she died almost two years ago.

Then he cries for 5 seconds.

Time has become fluid, abstract, and most of the things he talks about are ancient history.

A world of hiccups and randomness.

Fragmented, unreliable, and vague.

He’s losing it, slowly, his revered human package of personality and history and physicality, and it looks like he’s unlearning what was once so important.

Fortunately, he’s not really aware of that.

He forgets that he’s forgetting.

As time goes by he becomes naughty and mischievous again, like a little boy, without any regard for social norms and good behavior.

The man he used to be, a proud and stubborn self-proclaimed intellectual, a colorful and outspoken artistic male, is now mostly a tired human being with a big belly in a wheelchair.

He’s numbed out by medication.

His eyes look dull and tired.

His intellect is fucked, and his amazing memory, that cherished treasure chest of knowledge, is severely broken.

He’s no longer who he used to be, but in a way, he’s going back to how he was.

Blank.

Like a machine slowly shutting down.

A circle that’s gently closing.

Sometimes I wonder what his world looks like now.

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(Photo by @brunus, for Unsplash)