It's hard to watch a person mentally crumble. It's hard to watch them dissolve into a robotic, vapid version of themselves. She's become someone who repeats the standard answers, whether or not they are the truth. Common sense eludes her completely. There's nothing in her life aside from playing solitaire and doing crossword puzzles and staring blankly at a television she doesn't pay attention to. She doesn't even try to remember things anymore. When someone asks her a question, she makes an innocuous excuse and looks to me with glassy eyes, expecting me to fill in the blank in her mind. She throws tantrums. She talks baby talk. She is a child in every sense of the word, except for the fact that she is eighty-seven years old and her body is failing.

It's the weirdest thing.