I Don’t Care That My Dad Is Homeless and Has Dementia

What happens when the parent-child relationship can’t be repaired but the elder is in need of a caretaker? For this writer the answer wasn’t handle with care.

Andrew Ricketts
LEVEL

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Photos courtesy of the author

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I’I’m on the corner of 23rd Street and Sixth Avenue in Manhattan. There is a disheveled man pacing in front of me. He has gray hair on his forearms that’s set against brown skin with red undertones. I see the stub of a cigarette clinging to his cracked lips. He’s having an intense conversation with himself.

I’m waiting for a friend, but she’s late. I find myself looking for my father in the creases of this man pacing and mumbling.

Like him, my dad is homeless too.

And as dementia grabs hold, wherever he is right now, he’s likely talking to himself as well. Is someone staring at him, wondering if he has a family or a place to stay? He has a family. But not a place to stay.

My friend jolts me from deep thought.

“Hey! You okay?”

I’m not okay.

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Andrew Ricketts
LEVEL
Writer for

I’m a Caribbean and American writer from New York. My stories are about coming-of-age, learning how to relate, and family. It’s a living, breathing memoir.