I made promises to keep the vibes positive/ And obviously don’t wanna slip/ But also want to offer this knowledge that I’ve recently gained/ I felt this beat could retain/ Enough bitter sweet to help me reach in my brain/ Long and short is, I’ve bin a ghost since my Dad’s diagnosis/ It wasn’t something that I had to try and cope with/ He forgot a few things but on the most it/ Just seemed like old age, loss of focus, nothing hopeless/ A man of his doubts, stopped doing the family accounts/ Which was only weird cos his maths was renowned/ And if his patience had have run out he’da handed it down/ So it was difficult to see if he had planned it all out/ And this was like three years after he’d coached me to a first in maths/ I saw Uni as a worthless task, but he took the work on stats/ Re-learned that crap, and helped me understand it so I got my first year passed/ So 09 he was sharp enough to teach at degree level/ By 2012 basic finance seemed dreadful/ And a man who read several books in a month/ Was struggling to remember and retain characters, plots and that stuff/ A turning point came when he was admitted to hospital/ Complaining of severe pain, abdominal/ They couldn’t find a problem but he was often confused and unsure/ Convinced people were plotting against him on the ward/ And when he got home he was normal for a bit, nothing, much differed/ Though he stopped cooking, he’d still do the dishes/ And listen to the radio or read a magazine/ Or faff around with a computer game he loved an RPG/ My Mum decided they should move while he was still with it/ So they up sticks and move in with my sister, till they could finish/ On a purchase of a house if you know where Nantwich is/ Down-sizing and near family has its advantages/ And I’d take a trip from Yorkshire on a weekend/ He could definitely see sense/ We watched Saturday’s Match of the Day and we’d then/ Head out to walk Herbie by the river/ Go through the town and by the church and back in time for dinner/ This lasted a year and a bit, until times when he would just sit/ Watch the football, just staring at it/ Repeated questions that didn’t need answering/ And didn’t really know who was playing or what was happening/ I remember the last sense he made about football was complaining that people always try to take a shot from outside the box/ But Alzheimer’s was having its way with him…his profound mind was fog/ And…I was lost/ Dealt with it by not dealing with it, not talking to no-one/ Me and Ange argued daily, could have lost her and so on/ I’d take something out of context, make myself the victim/ Hate myself and kicked in the door to my kitchen/ No patience, people came for band practice and such/ And I’d be madder than fuck, acting up, getting aggy and stuff/ People asking for favours would make me angry enough/ To shout at em, you called with questions I would hang up/ I tried to cure this disease I tried to cure it with sleep/ I tried to cure it with drinking, I tried to cure it with weed/ And it was only time and writing music that got me through this/ I apologised for being like it they said “don’t be stupid”/ And now I’m avoiding seeing him, cos it does me no good/ My Mum called me a coward, it was justified but/ He’s safe in a care home, he’s being well looked after/ And doesn’t know who I am, and I don’t want him to have to/ But seeing him in that state, I don’t want the lasting image/ I don’t want to remember that, I want the mathematician/ The man who introduced me to jazz and Bradford City/ Who nurtured my interest in rap and played Madden with me/ He wasn’t perfect and neither am I/ Last time I saw him I looked him in the eye/ And wished he would just die/ He’s not suffering but he has no need for his life/ His brain’s in pieces that he cannot find/ And the only thing he still seems to enjoy is eating at night/ At least he did until they couldn’t feed him alright/ And he managed 5 days without a drink or even a bite/ And after that he seemed to peacefully die//