It seems like such a trite thing to be writing about these days given the incidences of Alzheimer’s in our aging parents but I join the fray as many of my friends also deal with this tragedy. Thankfully, I have a big family that is caring and committed and involved with each other’s lives, and an amazing brother and sister-in-law who take the brunt of mom’s care in hand. Still, it is something we all have to deal with, no matter the distance on a daily basis. Mom has now been diagnosed as entering the middle stretch in the decline of Alzheimer’s. This woman who used to coordinate a floor full of engineers, who handled all of our family’s financial dealings, who managed to save enough to buy a home late in life despite having so little to put aside each month as we were growing up, who worked in an accounting office after retirement to keep her mind busy – is now unable to remember the name, actors, or story line of a movie she saw just five minutes ago, who can barely remember her children when they call, and who has lost the memory of all of her wonderful grandchildren. It might be the saddest thing any of us has to face. Lucky you who have parents whose bodies age but whose minds stay alert. Even as they wither in their arms and legs, you can talk about the new president or laugh about a book you both read. For those who face this horrible specter of aging, it has cleared any pathway to a gentle demise. We can’t sit around and share stories of “remember when.” In fact, “remember when” tends to create frustration in trying to do just that. Our lives have lost that link to the past, the one that our parents were proud – even eager – to share whenever they could. I wish I had listened more.