My Aging Father's Decline: A Son's Photo Journal

I Know My Dad Would Have Been Very Pleased
If he had understood what I was doing. He too would have wanted people to remember that his story is a story about life. My father had no time for old age. He was like a river. Always in motion, flowing forward with loose-limbed vigor. Sweeping past every obstacle with a smile, dancing and shimmering in the sun. Every door was there to be opened. Every window to be looked through. Just last week, I asked him how old he thought he was. Grinning, he said, "Twenty-two and a half?" Now he's gone to Paris, to meet my mum.

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