Alzheimer's

I went for a walk this evening. Only an hour, nothing extravagant. I like to try to stay in the moment and use it as a way to let stuff go. I walked by an older couple. He was yelling at her, then tipped over the recycle bin and yelled at her when she said they were out because the trash collection is in the morning. "Alzheimer's," she said as I passed. "I had guessed that. My gramma had it." "Tell everyone our business," from the recycle bin. She started telling me how she was waiting for the sheriff. He was trying to get the car keys and take off on her. He was refusing his meds. She asked what happened to my gramma. I explained about the broken hip and forgetting how to walk after surgery. How old? 72. He's 78. Nicest man you ever met, but you wouldn't know it now. Nuclear engineer. Yea, it's so hard because you can see them right there, but it isn't them anymore. I didn't mention diapers or the times gramma took off naked down the road. The sheriff should be here soon. I guess we're heading for that, too. But, maple wood is the county home and that's $6000 a month. What would I live on? I don't tell her that my grandfather had deeded the house to my aunt several years before this or he would have lost it in the spend down. I don't tell her he went from a proud farmer to a broken old man. I tell her that he found a way and that the rules may be different now. I wish her well and she walks back to check on him. I walk away knowing I lied and that she is going to lose her husband and her possessions by degrees. As the sheriff car passes me about a mile up the road, I sigh. The Four Noble Truths run through my head and I really wish the Path were shorter, for her sake.