My new friend Wally has early-stage dementia.
He also has a t-shirt that stops people in their tracks. It reads: “I am dying, you should try it. I am here now.”
It may sound funny at first, in a dark and disarming way. Then it settles into something deeper. The shirt is not really about dying. It is about waking up. It is about presence. It is about the strange clarity that can come when a person stops pretending life is endless.
Wally has every right to be bitter. He has every right to feel cheated, angry, frightened, resentful, or consumed by sorrow. Dementia is cruel. It threatens memory, independence, identity, and the future itself. If anyone were entitled to host a daily pity party, it would be someone facing that reality.
And yet that is not Wally.