when your soul speaks for you…
February 11, 2013
He can’t speak anymore but it doesn’t even seem to matter in some ways. His eyes, his expressions, his soul tells us everything we need to know about his heart.
Jorge and I just returned from a whirlwind trip to spend some time with my father-in-law in Southern California. He is one of the kindest men I have ever known. It was hard to see so many parts of himself lost as a result of this disease, but I was also so amazed by how much of who he is, the beauty, the gentleness, the grace, is still so deep within him.
…no matter the brain shrink, those things live in his soul…and can never be taken away.
We return exhausted, sad and yet full from being with sisters that are a little older but still so much the same, from watching little nieces giggling from wild dress up sessions, from chit chat about the goodness of dogs, from trying to understand how the disease works and what’s ahead, from reconnecting with those you love…and bonded over caring for the man that cared for the man I love so much.
…and trying in the middle of it all, to just let your soul speak for you.
Kindnessgirl 
February 11, 2013 at 1:58 pm
Wow – such a beautiful picture and post.
February 11, 2013 at 3:23 pm
My goodness Patience-every time I read one of your posts I think: “Wow-this is the most moving, poignant piece she’s ever written.” And then you write another, and then another. And I think:”No, wait THIS is the most moving…no wait THIS one…” And then you write about your father-in-law. What a touching, poetic tribute to a lovely, gentle soul. The kindness runs deep in the roots of your family, nourished by all your love for each other.
February 11, 2013 at 3:34 pm
Thanks so much for sharing, that was so beautiful.
February 12, 2013 at 2:36 pm
I so understand sweet one….I so understand. Beautiful sharing.
February 13, 2013 at 12:07 pm
Reblogged this on inthecaul.
February 14, 2013 at 12:56 pm
My mom had a similar disease and my heart goes out to you all. I’m glad you went for the visit and are able to look past it to the person who, to some degree, is still there.