"Thank you for helping an old man’s fantasies,” Dad said, in one of his increasingly rare moments of clarity. He looked at me through clear, intelligent eyes to thank me for producing the degrees and awards he’d asked for; for taking dictation and "mailing" letters to local and national leaders; and for supplying him with business cards and a title. The moment was brief. His pupils soon returned to mere pinpoints, his gaze unfocused. Dad, once again, was swallowed up by his dementia.
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