For the Bryant's

This poem is dedicated to the Bryant's: Stu, Moe, Katy, and Jessica.

Here is their story:

http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-dementia-20120210,0,5574998.story

the promise of you is in that shirt
waving to us empty in the doorway
long sleeves clean cotton fresh press
mom may still iron and hang to smooth
our transition without you
a perfect sail flapping in the doorway
beckoning us to find you again

you push the dog with one foot as he grumbles from ottoman empire
mercy to friends who no longer visit
a man named Stu
the dad who looks the same
driving a golf cart, reading the paper, or watching TV
even the security camera sees you
stealing without intent
the invader in your mind
frontotemporal dementia

now we must defend you
tree, ball, flag
the same three words a doctor asks you to repeat
within minutes
you cannot recall the unicorn
or why you love mom

and then we see you
the recognition 
our photo on the mantle
Moe, Katie, and Jessica
he would tell you if he could
how much he wants to stay