I sat there, at his bedside, just out of his sight. He talked and laughed to those I could not see. He made motions, reflexive actions in memory of tasks carried out long ago. My knitting often idle in my lap, I just listened – catching some of his mumbled words, missing most. I watched his face – smiling at old friends, family already passed. I shared these moments of dementia blurred with whatever we might glimpse as he neared the thin veil between this Life and the next.