Dementia leads to many types of death. My wife’s was reachable by car.

On the drive over we talked about clouds.

The sky was full of low, puffy clouds, bright white and round on top, flat and gray on the bottom. Row after row of them stretched out in front of us, as if a person could hop from one to the next, to the next, all the way to the afterlife.

Which is where we were heading.

Although, that is not what I had told her.

She had been having trouble with her back, so I said we were going to get some therapy, and that if it helped we could go to a bookstore, one of her favorite places, though reading now was beyond her.

She hadn’t been agreeable to much lately, but for this she was willing to go with me in the car. And now we were headed to the great beyond, which for her could be reached by automobile.

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