It was devastating to see her sitting there, on the edge of her bed, scissors in hand, cutting her dress into shreds. Thin, wiry strands of hair fell carelessly across her face. Eyes swollen and puffy, tears streaming down her cheeks, she was in agony.
We approached, my toddler and I, fraught with anxiety at the horrible scene. Uncomprehending, we tried to console the poor soul.
She would have none of our pity. Flailing her arms to keep us away, we could only watch as her consumption began.
Alzheimer’s was feasting on my mother.
I could do nothing.