One Family's Journey with Vascular Dementia
Hubby and I ventured out on a date last week. First time in goodness knows how long that we went out, just the two of us.
As usual, when it comes to me leaving the house, he was in the car, engine running. Tapping his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, wondering why the hell it was taking me so long to get out the house.
Continue reading “My Eyes, Golf & Grief”
Grief is a funny old bedfellow. I hate it. I hate the explosive unpredictability of it. But I also wallow in its now familiar depths. It is where I feel close to my father. Where I hear his voice the clearest.
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My Crazy Mum 
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