One night a few years ago I babysat at Emma's home for her and for her Grampy. Grampy had Alzheimer's and he was just beginning to not recognize people and be less and less able to be with us. We found a show on PBS that was on Europe. He watched it contently while Emma and I wrote a storybook. She told me the story, I wrote it down page by page and she illustrated the story. It was about 7 fairies doing 7 different things on 7 different continents. Anyway, Grampy told me about his European stint during world war 2. He was only 17,had lied about his age and it was the very end of the war. He was proud of his time and he remembered places and music. I balanced between his long term memory (which is all he had real access to) and Emma's imagination. That night I felt the two were very similar.
Jack Kazar died today at around 9 this morning. Diane was with him. May he rest in peace. Rest in peace, Jack.
I find it very difficult to tell the difference between depression, grief and illness today. I feel all three of those and I cannot tell if they are all in existence or whether I am ill and think the depression is there, or grief is causing all of what I feel.
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