For the Bryant’s

This poem is dedicated to the Bryant’s: Stu, Moe, Katy, and Jessica. Their struggle with frontotemporal dementia was featured in this LA Times article by Thomas Curwen.

 the promise of you is in that shirt
 
 waving to us empty in the doorway
 
 long sleeves clean cotton fresh press
 
 mom may still iron and hang to smooth
 
 our transition without you
 
 a perfect sail flapping in the doorway
 
 beckoning us to find you again

you push the dog with one foot as he grumbles from ottoman empire
 
 mercy to friends who no longer visit
 
 a man named Stu
 
 the dad who looks the same
 
 driving a golf cart, reading the paper, or watching TV
 
 even the security camera sees you
 
 stealing without intent
 
 the invader in your mind
 
 frontotemporal dementia
 
 

now we must defend you
 
 tree, ball, flag
 
 the same three words a doctor asks you to repeat
 
 within minutes
 
 you cannot recall the unicorn
 
 or why you love mom
 
 
 

and then we see you
 
 the recognition
 
 our photo on the mantle
 
 Moe, Katie, and Jessica
 
 he would tell you if he could
 
 how much he wants to stay