The last time my parents came to visit, I could sense my dad, a retired detective, had dementia. He was in his early 80s. My mother never properly cared for him. Years later he was in the hospital and riddled with cancer, yet was in good spirits and with full on dementia. I knew he had but weeks to go. He wasn’t in pain and left 3-4 weeks after cancer diagnosis. I was with him when he passed. Today my mother, whom still has her wits, lives in a self imposed exile at 89. I regret many things about my parent’s and my relationship. Like Hackman, the lone issue I know I will be facing at some point is the call I will receive from the coroner when my mother has already passed for some time.