September 10,2022

John doesn't complain about wanting to drive very often anymore. I guess I can't think of the last time he did that. In general he's more compliant now. He doesn't fight things as much. But his memory is extremely short. He's confused much of the time and and worries more - he worries about random noises in the house. When we leave the house he worries if he has the things he needs. He worries things are missing. He's just worried. I've been out grocery shopping with John a few times recently when he grabs any random cart and starts pushing it around. I've discovered it quickly so at least we could return the cart to the place he got it, usually without the person knowing their cart disappeared. The other day at the grocery store he even started pushing a little display island that was on wheels! He asked me where I lived the other day. I wasn't sleeping well the other night and got up and wrote this - take my late night musings for what they're worth: I want this journey to end. It's not that I want John to die. I absolutely don't. But I want his suffering to end. I want this gray emptiness of a life to end. I want him to feel love and I want him to love others. I want him to believe in his children fiercely like he used to. I want him to value ethics as he always did. I want him to honor God. I want his mind to be curious. I want him to remember how wonderful his life has been. I want him to feel hope for the future. For our future. For our kids' futures. I want his vitality and strength. I want to hear his dumb jokes. I want to argue with him about any stupid thing. I want his life. Not this fucking empty shell.