One of the thoughts I find myself having to reconcile with in the past couple of months is how the man who I used to have hours-long conversations with is no longer around. Dad's having trouble making it past a few sentences without losing track of what he was talking about. I realized this when Matt, Kara, and I had to take dad for part of a Saturday — a couple of weekends ago — while mom went to the E.R. to get her eye looked at (which is a whole 'nother "kettle of fish").

We picked him up and brought him with us to Kara's gymnastics class at Vellore Village C.C.. Dad and I sat for the majority of her hour-long class in the swimming spectator gallery, trying to have conversation. It was scattered. I doubt dad noticed, but it was glaringly obvious to me. I tend to be able to "roll with it" well, but it's still a bit of a trip to think back to how he was a year ago and compare it to now. Fortunately, the last 15 minutes of class were given over to exhibition time: Kara and her classmates did handstands/headstands and walked the beam.

This is undoubtedly the first of many smaller "deaths" I'm going to notice, but it's a big one.