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.


About Jessica Renshaw

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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