Dear Dad,
I was just standing at the counter at the Flying Star on Rio Grande, you know, the one that has all the cakes, pies, and cookies. A new dessert caught my eye, praline toffee bread pudding with rum sauce. You came to mind immediately.
I was thinking of the day we returned home from the neurologist’s office after he told us that you had Lewy Body Dementia. I came back to Mom’s and started researching. You came in later and asked me if there was any good news from my research. I said that there wasn’t. We talked about what I was learning (Lewy Body Dementia: Information for Patients, Families, and Professionals), and I told you there was one good thing. After all these years of eating well and limiting sugar, you could eat any effing thing you wanted.
Remember the delicious, Fabulous French Toast you ordered any time of day when we went there because it had mounds of whip cream? Remember when you saw the character Mikey from "Breaking Bad" ordering lunch? You were thrilled. You used to tell me about the bread pudding your mom made. She called it a poor man’s dessert. I imagined if you ordered the praline toffee bread pudding with rum sauce, you would have said, “Mmmmm, that’s smooth,” and probably then, “That was ambrosia!” when you were finished, throwing your fork down in surrender to its goodness. Right?
I wished we were there together, sitting under the bamboo plants in the shade on the “petio,” how you would have engaged with all the dogs on the way to our table. I’d be holding your hand because I loved holding your hand and because it kept you stable. Then we’d sit and talk politics, cuss out the politicians more interested in power than helping the people they serve. Despite what Lewy handed you (and me, too), we had fun anyway. Take that, Lewy, you depraved destroyer of movement, memory, stamina, and well-being! We didn’t sit around waiting for you to die, did we? We kicked Lewy’s ass as hard and often as we could.
It’s hard to believe that I have lived without seeing or talking to you for four years, one month, and 22 days. I don’t know how I did it. I miss you.
Love, Mandy
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