My father, an artisan in his own right would become a master barber and practice his craft for over 50 years. In his early 80s he was diagnosed with Alzheimers disease, and over the course of a half-decade would eventually be broken down, and taken from this world by the ravages of the infliction. My parents were both supportive when I appraoched them about documetning my dad's decline. After a career of photographing other people and their battles it was time to turn my cameras inward to my family.
Unlike many Alzheimer's patients, dad remembered our nuclear family by sight to the end, and for that we were very lucky. My last conversation with him was nine-days before his passing, the same day I walked commencement for my masters degree and the day he fell into a coma.
His was an American story, in the Navy while a teen during WWII, a husband of 56 years, a gentle man with a smile, and good words for all. He is missed emmecely.