One of my very best friends died three years ago. He happened to be my grandfather, who was 96 years old. He  was ready. It was time.
Amy Goyer describes her father's challenges dealing with grief while battling Alzheimers disease.
His shoulders slump and his head bows as if his very life force has been suddenly drawn out of him. His face reflects the pain and confusion that his mind and heart are toiling with, struggling to grasp a wisp of reality and understand that the impossible has indeed happened. "I just can't believe it; I can't fathom it," he says. "Are you telling me the truth? She's not available anymore?" This happens every time my dad asks about my mom, the love of his life, his partner and companion, and in recent years his anchor who steered his mind to safety and security in the here and now as it's slowly being undermined by Alzheimer's disease. She was his North Star. It's been almost six months since she died.
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