Coffins in a crematorium in Madrid, RRF / Europa Press
My father died at the end of November, after years of a long and agonizing illness.
When he was diagnosed with dementia with Lewy bodies, he came to see me in Madrid.
"We have to talk about death," he told me.
And not just any death, but his own.
I was not prepared to have that conversation and did my best to avoid the subject.
As if not talking about it could help it.
As if the diagnosis of an incurable and degenerative disease was not definitive.
I imagined that my father wanted to talk about the inheritance, that his dementia would progress and how long it was worth continuing I saw ...
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