A piece of Cynthia Reed’s short story, “Crosswords,” reads,
“It wears him out. He’s resolved to ignore the smell of her hair when she wakes him to rub her back in the night. Acquiescence makes life sadder, but quieter, he’s decided. Frances is not capable of managing her own medication but, in his perpetual state of near-exhaustion, he insists to their children that he’s only trying to allow their mother to be independent, to maintain her dignity. In reality, he’s grasping at respite without the ignominy of speaking its name.”
Reed’s story provides a window into the daily life of an aging man dealing with his wife’s dementia from a perspective poignant in its simplicity and sincerity. Find the full piece of fiction in Issue 2.
Photo Credit: Brian Aydemir