And after all has been cleared away from the home my grandparents have been living since before I even turned a teen

I wonder exactly when my grandfather stopped remembering

The closest intersection of the last home he would ever live with his family

Dixon and Kippling

It’s March 31st, my mom sister and I have just finished packing and clearing

Mountains, a lifetime of belongings

Tightly and intricately stored in the basement of the apartment Joy and Kenneth would no longer be residing

We always knew him to be a collecter

They say this is common for those who grew up in a situation of scarcity

In his heart remains a youth of precious Hopewtown village memories

‘Red Cord of Redemption’

The message is scribed in black ink, to me it’s quite a sight to see

Others may think it to be just plain silly

With all capitol letters, I can hear him say the phrase with his unforgettable voice of authority

This medal-like, DIY decor item hangs from a red ribbon

Pinned somehow from the ceiling

I am left questioning its meaning

Six months later you’ve settled into your new home quite comfortably

You say they treat you well

They keep you safe and clean

It’s reassuring

When I visit you, your face lights up with glee

Even when we say our goodbyes and it’s time to leave

I keep you in my heart

I keep you close to me

This is a disease riddled with grief they call anticipatory

But still

I keep this image on my phone

The Red Cord of Redemption was taken down that day

But its symbolism remains strong as a stone

To remind me that while your memory may be fleeting

Your bold freedom, courage and love

Will ways be within me

And have the power to redeem me from the sorrow that dementia casts over those like me

Who have been impacted by loved ones who are simultaneously here

While slowly disappearing