During one visit, no different in most respects than my other daily visits to my dad who lived in a nearby nursing home, he looked at me with total clarity, and said, "I think I make up all of these problems because I need something to do." The man speaking was my dad. His eyes and the whole look of his face were like dad used to be, before his dementia. His beautiful blue eyes looked softly at me rather than rolling in their sockets. The faded look I'd grown used to was gone. The moment was strange and mystical.
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