Words without meaning

My father is 90 years old.  He has dementia and lives in a facility in Missoula, Montana, that specializes in caring for such people.  He has no memory of his life, including the woman he shared it with. 


His wife of almost 70 years, my mom, cared for him in their home until she had heart bypass surgery in the fall of 2013.  The strain of witnessing her partner's decline most certainly contributed to her weakening heart.


Now she visits him in the nearby facility.  Last week she says he had a small seizure during one visit.  Seated on the edge of his bed, he suddenly slumped over, nearly falling.  Staff responded immediately and placed him safely in his bed. There is no need to seek medical care. Specific instructions stating what not to do in a medical emergency are posted on his door. 


My mom, who is 87 by the way, tells the story without emotion, just as one would expect from a second generation Norwegian-American. She says the next morning she finds him in the community dining area at the table awaiting breakfast.  He is reading from some pamphlet.  Actually reading the words but not comprehending the meaning. 


Words without meaning.  That's what my father's life has come to.  I want to complete the thought, but I have taken this too far as it is.  I really don't have the right to make any more observations out of respect for my mom and dad.


As a couple, my parents were always a force.  I guess they still are.