So Pretty has been released from the bonds of Alzheimers. (This post is not referring to Wayne)

One day I walked onto the ward and Pretty came up to me, eyes sparkling. He pointed to my necklace and said, “Pretty.”

I was amazed as he rarely spoke a word.

Although his speech was lost, his big smiled never failed to great me.

The nurses told me he always liked pretty things and even used to call a uniform pretty if he so deemed it to be:)

Fly free, Pretty, and thanks for sweet memories.

3 thoughts on “Pretty”

  1. Sweet release. Those of us who remain here grieve–but those who are released by death, they do not grieve.
    Thinking of you. And of Wayne.

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