I said goodbye last night. Not that it mattered; every time I came into the room, we met anew. I was alternately a stranger, my own father, a son, and on rare happy occasions, myself. My grandfather knows that he is in a fog, recognition and memories just beyond reach, and it frustrates him. Then he goes back to the television and it no longer matters. I don’t know how to react. I am happy for the sparks of recognition, but still I miss my grandfather.