“Hey! Hello! Can you hear me? Guys?” I kept screaming. The boat was rocking with the waves. What the hell are they doing? There were two men that were sitting on a bench with water up to their butts, looking over the city, during the floods. One of the men was wearing swim shorts. These guys are insane. I inhaled, squeezing out the last breath in attempt to get their attention. “GUYS!” Finally, after the making dozens of efforts to get their attentions, I succeeded. “We’re coming to get you.” As my voice carries over the rushing water of the tides, we inch forward. He snaps away towards the gentlemen to the right of him and muttered something.  As we approach the two men, the older looking gentlemen looks at us. His eyes looked like he had been tortured and was going to lose the fight. The younger man beside him put his hand on his shoulder to comfort him.

“What are you guys doing out here in this crazy weather?” I asked. The younger man answered, “My father wanted to see the city before he died. He doesn’t have long to live. In this very spot, where we are sitting, is the very first place he took me as a kid. To come here, with me, was his death wish. My father is dying. If I can’t take way his pain, the least I can do is make his last moments count.” When he was done talking, he looked at his father and gave him a hug.

The old man tried to say something, but his weak breath. He finally got the strength to say what wanted to. “Son, do you remember when your mother and I used to take you to the lake. Lake Windermere, I think. I can barely remember. Your mother was better at remembering the minor details. The trip was memorable. We did everything: skipping rocks, going swimming, having a barbeque, making sandcastles, making you laugh and smile. I loved that trip more than anything. I would adore to go there one more time before I die. Do you remember, son. Do you remember?”

The son looked at us. He said nothing but the pain behind his eyes said it all. A tear feel into his hands. That is the one memory that the both of them shared. The one memory that the Alzheimer’s hasn’t destroyed, in its path of destruction. The water is what the disease is doing, destroying everything in its path. It became clear to us that their time together was something that the two men valued more than the storm. We left them to be. I never saw him or his son ever again.

Photo Credits: Anusha S.