My dad is fading. Slowly the memories and mannerisms that made him who he was are losing their colour and bleaching out to white. He is becoming unbearably light and as his history fades so my experience of him degrades and my own memories of the man who brought me up, taught me to be who I am, are being replaced by this pernicious disease. It is like Communism, replacing the history of the countries it robbed.

My mother, a force of nature, carries on. She cares for him, she cries for him and she prays that his heart will finish long before the final memories do.

I look to my side and I see my own family growing. Emerging like an irrepressible force, heavy and burgeoning. History continues and the unbearable lightness of my fathers being is replaced by the joy of my children.