Tim: Caring

After Tim was returned to us, I couldn’t settle down.  I found myself trying to avoid him. I went upstairs but Jerry was engrossed in a novel so I went back downstairs. Tim was at the kitchen table with his cinnamon-raisin toast and his L.A. Times. He had fit happily back into the routines we had established together over the months. He looked up to ask how I was. I said, “I’m at loose ends. I don’t know what to do with myself.”

He said, “Can I help? Would you like to play Scrabble?” (I know he hates Scrabble.) I didn’t answer. “What would you like to do?” I didn’t know.

“Nothing,” I said mournfully, not understanding myself.

Tim said gently, “Can I help you do nothing?”

It was just the sort of thing Jerry would say.

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About Jessica Renshaw

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This entry was posted in Alzheimer's, My brother Tim. Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Tim: Caring

  1. tedrey says:

    Sometimes nothing seems like the right thing to do, and that’s probably the best time to slow down and do — nothing

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