In his mind, it was always magnificent brisk autumn, late afternoon, the sun setting to a delightfully soft red giving way to a perfect pitch of warm grey and soft blue skies.
Then harsh voices, annoying intruders caused everything in his mind’s eye to turn a brilliant harsh white.
“You’ll recall when we spoke in our initial meeting, about the three stages of dementia, the early stage, the middle stage, the late stage, and the end of life stage. We are rapidly entering the final months, the end-of-life stage. His mental and physical health is quickly deteriorating. We’re providing him 24-hour care. We will see to his physical, emotional, and spiritual needs as needed and that he is as comfortable as possible when the time of passing comes, which, as I said, is coming fast.”
The more the voice went on the harsher the light became. He lowered his head to avert the enormous power it shone.
“Why does he do that? Move his head like that? He does it whenever we’re here”
“We’re not sure. Let’s talk outside”
The light went away. The closing day in autumn, late afternoon, became everything again. He didn’t think it, remember it or use reason for it to arrive, it just did and everything about it was brilliant.
