Many of you know that I’ve been racing against time and Alzheimer’s in getting my dad’s story. Sadly, my time is coming to an end. This disease is so cruel.
Two weeks ago, I had sent my daddy two chapters of the book I was writing about him. I was excited because I had worked really hard on them, and listened carefully to his recordings to get things down just right.
It’s not easy to write about someone who’s feelings are tightly vaulted, and who has often been very critical in my life, AND he’s my father. I wanted to get it right. He called me and said, “Shame on you.” I freaked out wondering what I had said that could cause him to be upset. Had I gotten details wrong? Did I send the right story?
Then he continued. Sheepishly he said, “You made me cry. You wrote that as…
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