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My dad


The last word-6
My mom was a woman of many words, and my dad was a man of few.
Carol Lindsay
10 hours ago2 min read


The Conversations We Never Had -1
In 1990, my father was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. We lived together for years, yet we never talked about what the diagnosis meant to him. Looking back, the silence around his illness is what I grieve most.
Carol Lindsay
5 days ago3 min read


Just for a Moment, I Held My Father
Six weeks before my father died of Alzheimer’s, I held him while a nurse moved his mattress to the floor so he wouldn’t be hurt when he fell. He was seventy-two and suddenly weightless in my arms, the man who once held me now being held by me. I knew even then that those few seconds would stay with me forever—a quiet reversal of time, love, and care that does not fade.
Carol Lindsay
Jan 72 min read
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