Romina Felicioni

Following a transient ischemic attack in 2019, my father-in-law’s life began to deteriorate day by day, and with it, his memories.
Chronic vascular encephalopathy with senile dementia. A few words on a blank sheet of paper to try to familiarize us with this silent disease that is slowly taking over his cognitive and motor skills.
A dynamic life, filled with travel and business trips, now counterbalanced by the static and immobility due to the precariousness of his movements, the uncertainty of his steps, and the fear of moving in unfamiliar environments, thus confining him to the home.
A chair, the television on, a cane. The constant repetitiveness of gestures even as the seasons outside pass quickly. His gaze is often lost in the void, as if chasing moments of a life that now seems distant, just as his language is punctuated by interruptions, like the needle on a broken record that continues to retrace the same groove in the vain hope that a hand will come from above to stop this monotonous compulsion to repeat.
November 26, 2024. A new ischemic attack upends his life and ours too. This time, the scars left on his body and mind by dawn the next day are more evident and unmanageable than the previous ones, so much so that he first needs to be admitted to a hospital and then to a residential facility for dependent persons.
Today, a year later, his dream remains the road home.