Nick Guthrie Dementia Stage 6

My dad carefully scoops up a piece of fish I cut for him using a butter knife like an awkward spatula, concentrating as if it's the most challenging task he's ever faced. He lifts the piece to his mouth and starts chewing, each taste is new. His curious expression seems as if he's pondering the mysteries of quantum mechanics. He's not actually thinking about science; it's just that his expression reminds me of how I look when contemplating the secrets of the universe, and my empathy connects to his wonder.

Sitting in his wheelchair, my dad is in stage 6 of dementia, which has 7 stages. Stage 6 involves a general loss of body control. Death usually occurs in stage 7, often due to pneumonia when the brain forgets how to swallow saliva. 24-hour naps will become a final coma.

He once studied electrical engineering at Yale and later taught me critical thinking skills that I used to solve differential equations, build a robot that plays the harp, and now apply to train fellow directors who I hope will become my partners at Tweaked Productions.

While I've gained many strengths from my father, some things I learned from him could be seen as weaknesses, but I believe they are strengths. Perhaps I forgive too easily, or my belief in others can sometimes be toxically optimistic, but I appreciate cooperative traits in myself, even if it especially hurts when I must fire someone I grow close to.

As the leader of a growing company, I aim to train people to become my equals, to collaborate and create together. As I build trust and establish a strong company foundation, I look forward to passing on my powers and responsibilities to "more interested people," as Thomas Wayne once told Bruce in Batman Begins.

So, reader, don't think I'm mocking my dad as I watch him try to use a fork on the cranberry juice. Those who knew Nick Guthrie know he'd want you to laugh. So laugh with his memory, he'd want that - see his smile reflect from my face.

Now, he's reaching for a french fry for the first time.