May we all find peace and comfort in life's mysteries, discovering that the end may not be the end, but rather a gateway to rebirth. May we see beauty and honor in death, and learn to embrace this sacred passage we are all destined to travel.

The Long Goodbye

They often refer to Alzheimer's as 'the long goodbye,' and for good reason. You may find yourself bidding farewell to your loved one, piece by piece, over the span of years. Each day brings a new introduction, and each night, another heart-wrenching farewell. These images offer a glimpse into my dad's profoundly personal journey with Alzheimer's, which came to an end on January 26, 2023.

I've often been advised not to share these images, as they may be too distressing to view. However, life isn't always easy. In fact, it can be downright tragic. I share these not seeking sympathy, but rather to remind us that we're all on this journey together. We will all face suffering in our own ways, carry our own burdens, and at times, seek needed solace in the kind eyes of a stranger. These images are shared so that you may understand my awareness and conviction: WE ARE ONE. And within that oneness, so too are our sorrows.


WARNING: SOME IMAGES DEPICT DEATH AND DYING, AND MAY BE VERY DISTURBING. PLEASE VIEW WITH CAUTION.

Can we ever truly fathom the depths of death without walking its path beside someone we love? To witness this journey is unlike anything I've ever known. Step by step, deeper and deeper, seemingly endless. Until, as prepared as one can be, yet still surprisingly sudden, their final breath is drawn, and their body lies heavy. And you, broken and shattered, stand empty in despair.

Come, walk with me, to the edge of the dark. But do not follow as I depart. For my time is done, yours has just begun. To live without me—what a daunting journey that will be. Navigating the labyrinth of memories. My smile. My laugh. My physical form—all fading away. Wearied and worn.

Walk with me to the edge of the dark, but do not follow. Hold me close within your heart, and keep me there as I depart.

In loving memory of my dad, Donald Michael Merke
July 10, 1936 - January 26, 2023