Recently my family took a trip to see my parents, and I was introduced to my dad.

The trip was spurred out of necessity to attend my uncle’s funeral. It was at the funeral home, before the service, that we walked up to my brother and dad who were standing in the aisle of the chapel. I hugged my brother, and that’s when it happened.

My dad thrust out his hand and said, “I’m David Barry, nice to meet you.” I shook his hand and said, “I know, we’ve met before.” I took a seat with Catherine on the pew behind my mom, and my dad sat behind us with Scott. It was at this point that I could overhear my dad telling my son all about my brother and his wife and kids.

My dad will be 79 this year, and Alzheimer’s has a grip on him. Some days are better than others and he can remember things very clearly. That day wasn’t one of those days.

It is painful to be so far away from my dad and watch precious time slip away. Alzheimer’s affects more than 44 million people worldwide, and yet remains one of the least understood diseases. I understand this much, it will rob you of whatever time you think you have left.

It’s tough to see the man I followed around the house with my toy tools, watching as he fixed a broken this or a busted that, slip into a wasteland of memories. He remembers things as if they were yesterday and often thinks they are. He sits in the same seat and gets fidgety when someone sits in his spot. He is most comfortable around familiar settings.

When I was growing up, I watched him as he worked on the car and skillfully taught me the carpentry skills his father taught him. I was his right hand man when he needed a wrench or a socket and the first to grab the sander when a piece of wood needed smoothing.

I’m sure I’ll get to meet my dad again when we visit my parents next, and as it has been my whole life, it will be my honor!