Ghost in a shell...

I don't even know where to begin...
Maybe it's here: I'm currently writing a story about my grandfather.
This isn't it.
But it's about him.

He was our rock.
But now he's a mere shadow of himself.
He's here, but he isn't.

My grandfather has Parkinson.

And altho it might seem kinda jolly, the initial shakes, and Michael J. Fox manages to rock it like no other, it's no jolly decease.
It affects the whole body, and slowly but steadily little bits and pieces stop working the way they should. (if you want to know details: please google it, I dont' want to fully get into it)

About 6 weeks ago I went over to see him and my gran, over the weekend.
Booked a flight and went.
It was the best decision I've ever made.
Because I got to still see him, go for walks with him, fight with him over who would pay for ice cream, laugh at jokes and talk about life.

He was already in a far worse state than when I had seen him over X-mas, so that shocked me.
But he was still there...

Now...
6 weeks later...
My grandfather is a mere shadow of who he was...
He doesn't remember where his bedroom is, or how to go about doing the things he normally does.
And his eyes are glazed over.
He's been very very sick the last couple of weeks.
And increasingly more disconnected.

But today...
Today he remembered that he promised me to tell my mom a joke he told me when I was with him 6 weeks ago....

I can't begin to tell you how emotional that makes me.
The best gift ever.
The best.

I love him so much,
and it's so horrible to see him like this.
For the past few weeks I haven't been myself.
I can't help worry about him.
Think about him.
It tears me apart.
So, sorry if I haven't been very communicative of late...I just don't know where to begin...