Dear Abby Goodbye

From S. F. Chronicle

Goodbye Abby!

A final letter to a dear lady

by Greg Asimakoupoulos

Used by permission*

News of your death has filled me with a bittersweet feeling
I'm glad you've been released from the bandit of dementia
that mercilessly robbed you of your memories and joie de vivre.
Nonetheless, I'm sad just the same.
Our world is less bright without your brilliant smile.

Thank you for a lifetime of advice giving
all the while taking the risk of being misunderstood.
You must have known from the start that speaking your mind
with the hope of touching another's heart has a price tag.

I started reading your column when I was just a kid.
As I recall, it's what got me started reading the newspaper to begin with.
I didn't always agree with you, but your concise and candid replies
were fun to read and taught me about responsibility and relationships.

Your columns modeled how to reach out to those who reach out to you.
With humor and insight, you found a way to benefit countless readers
while personally relating to a single individual.
Your winsome writing inspired me to do the same.

And so I keep trying.
Writing and reaching with the hope of helping others
while encouraging them to listen to their heart and do the right thing.
With fingers on the home row of my keyboard,
I peck away hunting to find the success that marked your life
Rest in peace, Pauline Phillips.
You were a dear, indeed!
Goodbye Abby!

Signed,
A grateful reader.

* Used by permission from http://www.partialobserver.com/article.cfm?id=3839

"When the Parent Becomes the Child"



From Pinterest Group Alzheimer's Board

Greg Asimkaupoulos is a pastor who writes thoughtful and funny poems. He gave me permission to post this poem here on this blog and another thoughtful one follows.

When the Parent Becomes the Child

by Greg Asimakoupoulos
July 13, 2012

When I was but a boy of three,
my mother took good care of me.
She cooked my food and washed my clothes
and dressed me for the day.

She helped me tie my laces tight

and tucked me in my bed at night.

She put my needs ahead of hers

and never once complained.

When I fell down or lost my way,
my mom was never far away.
She recognized my helpless state
and made me feel secure.

But now my mom's "the child" in need

who struggles daily to succeed

at little tasks that tax a mind

that frequently forgets.

She needs my help to get around
or look for things until they?re found.
And when her eyes betray her fear,
I hold her trembling hand.

At times her needs can drain me dry,

but when I start complaining why?

I think back to my childhood

and how she cared for me.

Originally published at http://www.partialobserver.com/ . Used by permission.

Safety and Guns

An Alzheimer's patient is like a child. We need to protect them--protect them from wandering, protect them from weapons. This morning I read this poem and got permission to post it.

It's Time to Heed the Headlines

A plea to gun-toting parents

by Greg Asimakoupoulos

March 16, 2012

If you love your daughters and your sons,
you can't be careless with your guns.
A weapon left in easy reach
can be the death of them.

The tragic news we've read about

should undermine whatever doubt

may yet remain concerning what's

the loving thing to do.

A grownup gun is not a toy.
And little girls and little boys
can't differentiate what's what
except when it's too late.

So please lock up the guns you own

before you hear your child moan
while bleeding out before your eyes
that can't hold back the tears.

Originally published at www.partialobserver.com .  Used by permission.