What a strange weekend. What a strange me.

I discovered on Thursday evening that my dad’s dementia has reached a stage where he can’t always work out who I am. Prompting him doesn’t help because he can’t hold onto the thought. He knew that he knew me, but thought maybe I was Mum’s sister. (Mum has never had a sister). We hoped he might just be having a bad day, but the weekend has proved us wrong. Mum has admitted she thinks she’s lost him now. I can’t tell you how much I feel for her.

My reaction – dye my hair purple again. Spend nearly all my free time this weekend drawing and ignoring the housework. Enquire about enrolment on a pottery course. None of which actually helps my parents at all, but somehow helps me.

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