By the end of the first week, Graham felt like he was losing his mind. Mornings were fine, but once lunch was over, his dad rapidly declined. His symptoms grew worse as the sunset neared. In less than seven days, his father had broken three glasses, one dish, had lost the TV remote countless times—usually found in his dad’s room—and more granola cereal landed on the floor than in his dad’s bowl each morning.
Not to mention the number of times his dad had stepped outside onto the deck to watch the water. This was fine, but he always did it when Graham was either on the phone, in the bathroom or his room, or out front getting the mail. Not knowing his dad’s whereabouts had taken years off his own life. The first time he’d found the place empty, his heart had thundered in his ears, he was so
