Living Wtih A Stranger Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Catching glimpses now and then of the man I married,
more often than not these days he's hidden behind a
dark cloud of dementia.

Negative attitudes, moody, yelling, verbally abusing,
frustrated because he's losing the image of who he was
and cannot deal with it's insistence.

Unable to do what he used to, forgetting to accomplish
tasks that were once very easy for him, silently crying
at times in a deep depression.

Sitting for hours staring at the television, lost in a
vaporous void, losing touch with reality, losing his
sense of direction.

Going south, thinking he's heading east, but isn't,
putting things in odd places, throwing away important
items needed to be attended to.

Living with a stranger I've known for thirty nine years,
it doesn't get any easier, each moment is more difficult
to cope than the one before it.