Whenever my sisters and I came to visit my father to discuss some issues I had to cry and it never stopped. I cried so much that my sisters said, ‘Please stop, this way we can never discuss the things we have to discuss with father.’ I could not do anything about it; I was crying because I’m losing my father. My father is still pretty good but there are a few signs that point to dementia. Suddenly my crying stopped, I accepted what was apparently  going on. A friend of mine gave me a book by J. Bernlef a story about dementia so I could prepare myself of what possible might coming.

Last November I was going to renovate my home. I only have 64 m2 and because of all the dust I suggested to my father that I live with him for a month; if I could sleep in my old room. So I moved in with my father. It was a wonderful month. Together we cleaned the whole house. Finally, we brought all my mother's clothes, she passed away 10 years ago, to charity organisations. The big trash came along three times. My father kept vacuum cleaners from 40 years ago and broken cups. You never knew, once it might have a function. Because my father is still physically very strong we were able to tidy up from ceiling to basement. The beauty of our cleaning up was that all sorts of old memories came up. We found great pictures of building structures on hardboard which my father had been working on. Old photo albums appeared and we have gone through them all. We found all kinds of collections of classical music that we played; made trips to places of my fathers childhood. My father snapped visibly. Meanwhile he received a statement from dementia from the doctor. Now he has nursing care twice a day and evening meals are delivered. Every week I go to my father for two days and we do something for fun. We visit the sea many times because my father has lived there all his life. It is like going out with your child again. I put on his coat and make sure he wears gloves and a hat. When we are walking he looks to every bird, ship, airplane and child that  passes by and he looks at them if they are miracles of Mother Nature. The best moment is whenever we have spiritual conversations. My father suddenly can find his words and can articulate well how he sees life and how he is trying to explain its origin. He already is a lot in the other world and actually it is an honour to see how body and mind slowly separates. Once he told me how all the human beings form one body. My father, who was so rational and didn’t have anything to do with spirituality, suddenly feels its presence when we watch television. I tell him that occasionally they come to visit him and that my mother and a good friend are waiting for him.