And Still We Sing: The Dementia Diaries: Book #2

As I read through the second half of our first diary, I smell the Aqua di Gio cologne he wore without fail, now long since abandoned. I feel the unbreakable Pull, as we came to call it, of our connection to one another. The ring of his belly laughter resounds in my ears. I embrace the hopes we had of a bright future together, and I weep. I weep for the lives we lost when the Jordan I loved died, for the dreams we held which will never come true.

Yet we sing.

We sing for the time we physically shared together. We sing for the friendship we created in the aftermath of a senseless war we waged when we discovered we couldn't be together and neither of us could survive without the other. I sing for my marriage to Jordan's former best friend and partner in humorous crime. Had Jordan's injury not separated us, I never would have married Angelo; Jordan would never have married Victoria; their fraternal twins, Aria and Logan, would never have been born. I thank God every day for these blessings in disguise. They are my comfort and my rock as we navigate Jordan's unfathomable condition, each in our own way.

A family is not simply a matter of bloodline, name, or marriage. A family is created and carries on through the those we love and who love us in return.