His image is stagnant in memory, surrounded by benign narratives.
This hibernation of memory doesn't seem to wait for spring, or we don't want to recall being disturbed by the hysteria of the night, the fear of being lost, or the unfinished sentence.
Life will begin to show a cruel and indifferent side. This is a brutal joke. What AD hurts the most is not the patient himself, but the people around him who love him the most.
If I was in college, as a bystander, I might be so excited to discuss AD as a topic of personal identity, I might misunderstand the existence of reason, and I might once again convince myself that I am a member of the non-self camp. It may be self-righteous to think that "loss" is easy to deal with.
But when a loved one encounters AD, all the so-called philosophical questions seem ridiculous and ignorant.
When a person's existence is gradually disintegrating, when it disintegrates in front of you, reason will not help answer the doubts of life, but will only make people feel the pain more clearly. It is also that pain that makes people learn to persevere, and makes people realize what is the real philosophical question.
In reality, when faced with AD, just like the patient itself -- have some good days and some bad days -- good days will have a lot of love and support, there will be the pure joy and joy of a normal family, but bad days will Mixed disgust, anger, and the ensuing remorse and heartbreak.
It's a slow losing process. Slow enough to sometimes give the illusion of getting better, and start to have unrealistic hopes.
I don't know if I still have a chance to fight for my life in front of my father's AD. I don't know what life will be like in the future. I don't know if I'll be sad or relieved when he can't say my name.
The cure for AD is unknown, and the choice in the face of AD is extremely difficult.
But that new he AD created could be another savior. Teach me how to truly face loss.
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