As Dad and I were leaving church last Sunday, a woman came up to me and asked if my next book was out yet. I told her that it was, and that I had just put a few copies in the church bookstore.
Dad’s eyebrows shot up, interested.
“Dad, do you want to go see the book?” I asked, knowing the answer.
“Nope,” he said. “Another time.” He’s always in a hurry. Kind of a lifelong pattern.
Now, I know and accept that he has Alzheimer’s and I know he isn’t able to grasp the awareness that his daughter wrote a book.
But, still, I felt that familiar zing in my heart when I realize how far he has slipped into this disease.
I had wanted to show him that I dedicated the book to him.