Early onset Alzheimer

My mom was a woman of many words, and my dad was a man of few.

My sister has forgotten much of her life. But she kept the notes I gave her as a child. Now, as her words fade, we read them together—and something remains.

“How old was Dad when he got Alzheimer’s?” “Sixty-two.” “Good,” he said. “I’m sixty-three.”

When my father, who had Alzheimer’s, came home without my three-year-old son, we lived twenty minutes of terror—and learned the hard truth about dementia and driving.